Hare No 1 for last week's run is claiming writer's block and/or wanker's cramp, so these are penned by your faithful scribe.

Another cracking day as far as the weather was concerned, and loads of hashers turned up. Newie Tess who hails from deepest Devon, but lately of exotic Bedford turned up, and I was pleased to see that she was suitably attaired for the St George's Day run and was wearing red knickers. Others had entered into the spirit of the day as well, notably Ringkisser who never misses an opportunity to look silly.

The church clock had just struck 11:05 and although Hare No 2 was raring to go, there was no sign of G-String. Could it be that he had forgotten the run? Suddenly what sounded like a 1958 Fordson Tractor was heard, and accompanied by a cloud of dust and scattering of gravel, the G-String Land Chugger drew up. G-String senior AKA Mouldy Old (Fart? Git? Sod? Dough?) [Dough - Archive Ed] was visiting from Quatar, and was obviously the cause of the delay.

Circle was called, those celebrating a birthday were identified and then it was ON OFF. The now all too familiar trot out from the pub, only to find a T (but no check though - what's that about?) and then about face to try and find the true trail. FRBs Giblets and Pecker found some dust and called the ONON only to find yet another T. After a bit more faffing around, the trail was found in the field behind the pub. One advantage of milling around for so long was that the really late-comers (NIK-NAK & Ringer) found the pack easily.

Having thought that we'd done Wrestlingworth to death as far as hashing is concerned, there were a number of the pack who thought that they would be able out-guess the hares - your scribe being one of them. But no, the wily hares had done a good job, and those of us that set off so confidently from the checks were most often disappointed to discover it was a false trail. Shaggy (Oi! where's my tankard!) happened to be in the area, and although he no longer runs with H5 [Since when? - Archive Ed] was spotted a few times two or three fields away.

The last check before the ON-INN gave Paintball the chance to test his 'Man goes into a pub with a Monkey on his shoulder' joke which gave the FRBs chance to get their breath back, and the laggards to catch up. It was then just a short trot around the corner and down the hill and back to the pub. SHRAB! (in case you've forgotten, Short Runs Are Best)

Down-downs for the hares, birthday people, newie Tess, me for something or other, Shaggy (of course) and the RA for losing the plot and to Mouldy Old Whatsit for spawning a Hasher that doesn't get round to writing the Words.

OnOn - Shagpile