Run No. 595 12th January 2003
The Bell, Sandy
Ankle Biters: -
Knitting Circle: -
Started laying the run at 7.30am on a cold frosty Sunday morning, finished at 10.45am.
Arrived at the Bell to see a lively bunch of 30+ runners. After GM said his bit, it was over to me and Ben to discuss the pitfalls of the run.
Once the de-briefing was over it was check-it time. F'Duck decided to run towards the A1 probably wanted to get back to Redbourn to see if his new boiler was still working. False Trail. Out of nowhere a fine figure of a superb athlete checks out the railway station route. "False trail" I shouted to G-String. The pack head to Sandy Common running along the river, we couldn't have done two weeks ago. False trail. Quick loop around the town and the pack move up to the sand hills.
Ben asked me why they are called sand hills. So a Father to Son geography lesson was called for. The geographical features of Sandy and surrounding areas are predominantly flat, basically because we are on the edge of the fens, I explained. Therefore unusual features in the landscape, such as a rounded natural rise of land higher than its surroundings. If it was too high it would be a mountain. A mountain is a land mass that projects conspicuously above its surroundings and is higher than a hill. Now for the sand explanation. Sand is loose granular particles smaller than gravel, coarser than silt that result from the disintegration of rock. Quartz is a common rock, also a watch I believe. Ben didn't ask any more questions after that. Back to the run checks, false trails and back to the pub, to a warm fire and beer.
Circle up down downs for the hares, 250 runner My Little Pony, Hashits both awarded to me. I left the hashits outside the pub door, I didn't want to take them in, smelly and wet. While I was inside enjoying a pint someone stole them. I honestly thought that they would be safe as the lovely super RA quoted that thieves of hash property would be harshly dealt with.
On that note I rest my case on the bedside cabinet of hash justice, slip my underpants of innocence down, slide between the duvet of faith and the bedsheet of righteousness knowing that two hashits can be shared.
Shaggy and Ben.