Run 1220

Monday 18 August 2014

Great Brickhill

Hare: Fat Controller

HASHERS: 13  NEWBEES: 1  MUTTS: 1

Crepuscular Cavorting!
Another local pub shut on a Monday evening! "Oh, dear! How sad! Never mind." as BSM Williams used to say. So, grasping the proverbial nettle – the old Athens H3 – 'Plan A' kicked in; I bought a few slats of beer (@ 70p/pint), some softies and nibbles from Aldi with Kisses Anytime my faithful long-suffering companion, and cunningly decided to 'Circle Up' on the little triangular village green right under the pub landlord's nose! On arrival, Kisses and I were amused to see a local knocking on the pub door and peering through the curtained windows, obviously desperate for a wet. But to both his chagrin and mine, the bloody landlord wasn't in!
The tiny village green has three oak trees and a number of little standing stones arranged around with a big altar stone in the centre. Ringer was first to arrive, closely followed by Atomic Titten, and as we four stood sheltering under the oaks from a deluge that would have pleased Noah, I said to Ringer: "That stone's ideal for sacrificing virgins on." "Virgins in the hash – Nah! But sacrifice Forkin', yeh!" he quipped. "Very erudite is he in the ways of the hash." I thought. Anyway, to cut a possible long story short, another eight regulars and two mutts turned up – along with a 'new boot'.
Regrettably, the nights are drawing in, and so to keep the peace, shortened my planned 'long' trail down to 3.5 miles. Even this kindly act on my part, caused derision and confusion. First, Lost Cause would not leave Double Entry's chariot until he had stone bonk guarantees that he wouldn't be out half the night, and then continued to moan all the way round. And second, half way round, Atomic Titten nearly fainted when she got '3km left to go' mixed up with '3.5miles' – the teutonic twit. There's no pleasing some people!
"Circle Up!" and all circled. "Did you know that on this day in 1962 four lads played with themselves for the first time in a darkened room in Birkenhead!" exclaimed Ringer, emulating Capt. F's penchant for fantastic facts. Then, 'new boot' Kev standing mouth agape in the Circle, was introduced by Submissive's superb act of ventriloquism! What other hidden tallents does she have?
Much to my surprise, I was awarded a brand new 'Hare' tee shirt to replace my old and faded '2004 Cardiff Interhash' one. Joyously sporting my new hash attire, I quite forgot to explain my marks [thank the lord for that we were confused enough as it was: ed]. It was my old and faded tee shirt dear reader, that bought Kisses and I together. And just think what a happy and contented life she would have if I hadn't volunteered to be a co-hare all those years ago.
Late cummer Edwina 1-2-3 made up the final number before 'On - On' was called, and like 'bats out of hell' – FRBs Count Roadkill, Ringer and Oscar with Subbie in tow, shot off downhill – never to be seen again, closely followed by Bangers n Madge.

At the farm check, two clearly marked trails [sic] awaited the FRBs, on my arrival at the check with Edwina 1-2-3, there was no sign of the FRBs in either direction. Ever helpful, Forkin' declined my request to go and retrieve them from their unmarked destiny towards the old papermill, and so up the sandy Partridge Hill we went to the Ivy Lane Holding check. Still no sight or sound of the errant FRBs. We tarried awhile. Had my cross been washed or kicked out? Lady P unsuccessfully tried to phone the Count.
On trail went down past the fish ponds and into the wonderful Rushmere Park. At the next holding check we tarried again to no avail, and "Check it out" was called. Eager to prove his tracking prowess, Blow-Felt went west, whilst those heading south called On On! Dejected, he turned back, cursing the hare and muttering under his breath. Double Entry consoled him.
Passing the well known 'On - In' pond Kev was told about Scoobie Do's filthy habit of diving in all things murky and watery. Bemused, I heard him say that being ex-army he has lots of filthy habits and would join Scoobie next time he appears. Then he mentioned something about liking to lurk alone in woods at night ..... (Subbie, are you aware of this?)
At the 'Big Chair' check, Atomic Titten decided to climb onto it much to the amusement of everyone. "Let's take a photo!" someone shouted. "We can't, the Count's got the camera" Lady P pipped up! "Use your phone" came a shout. "I've not tried taking photos with it" she replied. And so, whilst Atomic struck various poses, Lady P with untried photo mode in hand, successfully took a 'selfie'! Now, dear reader, did we laugh?
The biggest surprise of the evening was Kisses Anytime. This normally quiet, unassuming 'Knitting-Circler' found the trail. With her 'Brown Owl' night vision she honed in on the marks, and shouting 'On - On' at the top of voice, became an 'FRwB', and sped off – leading the pack to the ON - INN trail.
The pub being closed had caused problems for certain harriettes of the pack. And so it was that just before the ON - INN, Lady P and Atomic Titten ducked into some bushes, as the rest of the pack meandered, to the sound of trickling water, up past the sewage works and on to the village green. Relief!
Back at the green, the errant FRBs were telling tall tales of battling giants, dragons, livestock and angry farmers (they were probably having a few swift pints in The Dolphin at Stoke Hammond) whilst the cheap beers and nibbles were passed around. Bats scudded the gloaming as our prosthetic RA 'bats in the belfry' Forkin' wrested control of the Circle and awarded trumped up down - downs to the assembled pack – all by the glimmering light of Atomic Titten's phone torch, whilst Ringer and the Count disrupted the hallowed hash proceedings by arguing about what £20 notes look like in the dark? Oooh - er?
And so dear reader; thus ended the last crepuscular Monday hash of the H5 summer season.
FRwB: The Rw stands for rapid-walking.
LIMP ON - ON TO AMPTHILL at 4PM
Fat Controller