Run 1217

Monday 4 August 2014

The Compasses, Greenfield

Hares: Ringer and Rapid Withdrawal

HASHERS: 16

Not quite Prêt-à-Hasher but certainly close, this run, with a complete set of 'working drawings', was outsourced by Blowfelt, away in Portugal supporting Pussies Galore. Only the final details – the exact route – were left to be decided, as Hare Ringer discovered when he popped into The Compasses to let the staff know we would be coming, only to be told "Oh, you're already booked in for that Monday". Bravo Blowfelt.

Laid on Sunday afternoon, the marks were in Ringer's trademark shade of pink interspersed with Rapid W's purer white stuff – definitely no blue stuff here. No hazards were expected, but it seems we failed to take account of the tree root that tripped Lady P.

Birthdays for Catch-It and Shufflecock were declared, one for the Thursday previous, the other the Thursday following. Capt F reminded us that On This Day in History, us Brits got involved in a minor skirmish with our regal cousins on the Continent, for which Atomic Titten felt obliged to apologise. Knobber stole the last-to-arrive-after-circle-up-Nik-Nak trophy, after which we were soon On-Out.

It warms the cockles of a hare's heart when all your false trail baits are taken (all except the one that Rapid is STILL moaning about). Perhaps this was the result of the 'False Hare' ploy, in which both hares conspicuously run the false trail. How many times could we make this work? Turns out that three on the trot is possible. A bonus to this ploy is that far fewer number checks were needed to keep the pack together, apart from a couple in the longer, straightish mid-run sections. Another good ploy to counter FRBs is to let Forking set off on a false trail, followed by both hares, who then sneakily backtrack while he is out out of sight without calling him back. Ah, bless!

The second half of the run saw us passing Pussy Pond, which used to be a nice spot for a cooling dip on an evening such as this, but which is now in a very sorry state of floating detritus and vandalised information board. After the pond, we got into Flitton Moor and its woodland paths. This included a 300m stretch of little-used, VERY overgrown track, with a fair chorus of oows and aahs as the waist-high nettles and thistles found their target. On-Inn soon followed, and we were back to the pub barely a minute or two past the hour mark.

Capt F led off the Down-downs for the Hares and the birthday twins before handing over to RA Shufflecock and his assistant Forking DC, who seems to have honed awarding yourself a beer into a near art-form.

So it's goodnight from me and goodnight from him. Goodnight, and On-On to The Musgrave Arms at Apsley End near Shillington.

How a Hare did 1217