Run 1057

Sunday 4 September 2011

The Crown, Flitwick

Hare: Forkin'

HASHERS: 19  ANKLE BITERS: 2  VISITORS: 2  MUTTS: 1  NEWBEE MUTT: 1  APRES: 2

Getting on for ten to eleven, with Legs Eleven and Atomic Titten in the car park Forking cheerfully said "There are still not quite enough of you to do some of the number checks". Then a tsunami of late arrivals started pouring into The Crown pub car park. The parking war was led by Private Parts who shouted "Gerrouda mypahrkinspace" as Ringer swiftly closed his open door and moved to safety. Frau Kraft Rot could then exit her back seat in the manner a lady should, in front of Shufflecock. Lost Cause took the role of Hash Cash during the absence on the first day of term by Submissive. After circle up the hash pelted up Gravel Pit lane as Edwina 123 trickled in as a late entry. Railway anorak Fat Controller drooled as the 11-05 service thundered above as Kisses Anytime went under in the tunnel of lurve. The back gardens along the river Flit were so pleasing, with fishing gnomes and moorings for canoes that the first five had the pleasure of seeing them twice, Knobber, Leroy and Limp were probably FRBs at the time. After the lady check led by Atomic followed by Dark Horse, and the road crossing, came the part we shall refer to as Dale Farm. Forking experiencing a bad hare day had to take the lead through the caravan homes settlement of a travelling fraternity. Five Baah kept his dog on a tight lead lest the gypsies half inched anything [no chance of us going all pc then? ...scribe]. After a long uphill falsie Lady Chatterley and Skidmark used the Pythagoras theorum that if you went around the edges of a ploughed field on two sides you collected less square footage of mud stuck to your trainers than if you plodded straight through. By now the rain was spitting down and slowly getting heavier. As no-one had bought any money the beer stop at The Compasses didn't happen, besides it was still five to midday and the pub wasn't yet open. Following the stream along the moor and on in it was torrential rain all the way.

At the pub Subby showed off her brand new doggy, Oscar who should take to hashing like water off a duck's back. In the pub the by now changed runners dried off best they could. Legs swanned in as dry [not for long: Asst Scribe] as the cellar was of Doombar after the hashers drained the barrel. Maybe she was wearing Monsoon as well...

On on to the bike hash.

FDC.