Run No. 659 12th April 2004
Rowney Warren Car Park, Chicksands
Ankle Biters: -
Knitting Circle: -
Greetings happy hashers from Words virgin, Overflo - please be gentle with me, I bruise very easily, well bits of me do, but I digress.
Captain Fantaastic, Pooper, Flo and I met to lay the run in Chicksands Wood where there are lots and lots of trees all of which look very similar (the significance of this last remark will become apparent later). As we set off into the collonaded arboreal magnificence (?) next to the carpark it occurred to me that the trail that we were on looked very much like dozens of others that intersected or ran parallel or joined (well, you get the idea) ours in some way. Undaunted we continued. About an hour into our endeavour we were accosted by a couple on bikes who asked us if we were runners. We did not wish to incriminate ourselves but no other credible story sprang to mind so we had to admit to it and they informed us that a lady was running about the wood looking for us. We assumed she was a confused Hasher who had turned up early and we expected to see her very soon. One and a half hours later and there was no sign of her so she was christened "the Phantom Hasher".
Due to circumstances beyond our control (we fell asleep), we barely managed to make it back for the run at 4.00pm and were disappointed by the poor turnout until somebody pointed out that out that our glorious leader had told everyone that it started at 4.30. In the circle, the revered and esteemed Shagpile also got the number of the run wrong (again) thus proving that if you can't count you can't tell the time either. I thought that G-String's cries of "imbecile" were a bit harsh and a vile calumny till I looked in a dictionary and found what "calumny" meant whereupon I was forced to agree with his assessment of the situation.
It was great to see our illustrious RA and Mrs illustrious RA back from their nuptial perambulations though I was a bit worried that those fiendish and highly inventive Thais had quickly cloned a couple of copies and substituted them, but couldn't quite get the colour right. This theory was quickly dispelled however when Big Blouse swiftly dropped his trousers and treated us all to a flash of the skinny and pasty backside with which we are all so familiar (some more than others, I shall say no more).
Eventually, Hashers set off in all directions at random (an awesome sight) their lovely little faces aglow with manic (or should that be maniac) enthusiasm although I think a few of them might just have had wind. There was also a small dark four legged Hasher which appeared to have been covertly trained by far eastern logging companies to retrieve fallen trees. It is a shame that it wasn't also taught that it is a good idea to select a trail where the trees are farther apart than the one which is being transported sideways in the mouth (design fault: dogs should be able to have a tree inserted up their bum so it can drag after it, a nice genetic engineering problem that logging companies are probably working on).
It was about this time that I saw the RA earnestly scanning the undergrowth, I assumed that, inspired by his recent sojourn in the far east, he was looking for itinerant Japanese warriors unaware that the war has finished. He had obviously absorbed much of the indigenous culture because he kept on muttering "Phuket, where is this trail", at least I think that is what he was saying.
The run went flawlessly apart from all the Hares being clueless as to where the trail was and Flo randomly marking arrows down false trails. One of the many checks was a "honeymoon check" but the two lovebirds being somehow disinclined to do what was obviously expected of them ran off in different directions, some sort of lovers tiff I assumed. At another check there was open defiance and dissention when Stallion refused to do anything on the pretext that no-one knew what the f***k was going on, I must say that seemed quite reasonable to me. The final triumph of the afternoon was that the Hares actually managed to lose a huge hill which must be a significant if not unique feat. What is even more amazing is that they managed to congratulate each other on a job well done (this is what makes the British great).
The mini hash Easter egg run went without a hitch despite pleas from accompanying parents to lose various offspring as was managed last year by Flo. The Easter Bunny didn't make an appearance in person but we didn't find this too surprising as we had noticed when laying the run that some fox or other (to whom we should be eternally grateful) had ripped the stupid bloody thing to pieces earlier in the day.
At the circle, "down downs" included "newie" Mummy Tight Wad (MTW) who astounded us all by announcing that her offspring had been called that as a child (or words to that effect), which just proves how incredibly astute we are as a club. Tight Wad himself did a turn for his birthday, amazingly MTW said that she remembered it too but the original one was more painful. There was a seat on the ice block for Bell End for being a b*****d to Mr & Mrs RA and dobbing them in with the Phuket Hash. Anna Fornikova & Seaman Staines were thus named for reasons it is probably best not to enquire too closely about and could certainly not be disclosed on the internet as it would outrage public decency [and the Hash hasn't already outraged public decency! - Flo]. This was also done on the ice block (cruel and viscious Hash). Big Blouse and No Knickers had a "down down" for no particular reason which seemed fair at the time, Nik Nak had one for calling Supermini "Austin" for some inexplicable reason and Underlay had one for allowing Ebony to take out the RA & Bell End with half a Douglas pine (why do they call them all Douglas?). However, she seemed utterly unrepentent, defiantly shouting that she wished that she had seen it (as do we all I suspect), she is also the sort of thing that makes Britain great.
At the ensuing BBQ, attempts were made by assorted dogs some of which, I think, belonged to the Hash, to bury various smaller members of our illustrious band (to the vocal encouragement of the Badminton players and some parents, it has to be said).
In summary, a splendid time was had by all and several children took their mummies and daddies home for a well earned sleep.
No-one ever found the Phantom Hasher and legend has it that she runs eternally around Chicksands Wood crying those immortal words "where is this Phuket trail" or something like that.