Monday 15 June 2015
The Raven, Hexton
Hares: Fat Controller and Kisses Anytime
HASHERS: 17 ANKLE BITERS: 2 NEWBEES: 1 MUTTS: 1 APRES: 1
Hoards of woad dyed warriors roam....
... in search of fresh strawberries, jelly babies and beer provided by Kisses
Alexander nominates Shuffle for Newbee down-down
For the first time in over eighteen years, I've had to resort to setting a complete trail in ordinary flour! If there are any current or ex-Athens H3 hashers out there reading this 'Trash' who are horrified that I have finally descended into not using traditional Alma Mater's Athens 'Blue' — then I apologise. I'm sure that I will get a 'Down-Down' next I visit your bankrupt shores! Hey! A small price to pay. Abnormal service will be quickly resumed!
Anyway, back to the 'Trash' – or 'Wurdz' as H5 call them. Hexton is steeped in forgotten history, and surrounded by steep wooded valleys forming the northern Chilterns on which sits the little known, (due to the lack of 'permissive rights of way') Iron Age Hill Fort of Ravensborough. It's strange to think that in this 'Year of the Warhorse' that centuries ago hoards of woad-dyed Warriors rode their warhorses and war chariots swiftly into battles in and around this now peaceful, beautiful, north Chilterns landscape.
Excellent hashing country you might think! But, no! There is a dearth of suitable footpaths to range through the heavily wooded valleys of the Hexton Estate, and so with my trusty and long-suffering sidekick, Kisses Anytime, I decided to 'go off piste'! Apart from Kisses Anytime being on my side, so to was Lady Luck. I was fortunate to meet Andrew, the Estate Manager, who agreed that 'we' could go 'off piste'. And so we did! (I think I heard him correctly?).
Pussies Galore and Blowfelt were the first arrivals; with the last arrivals presenting to the welcoming pack 'new bootee' Alexander, resplendent in his new, all-terrain charriot. I looked around and realised that the age range of the assembled pack was vast, being from 0 to 80. The youngest and fittest adult being Scooper. "I've got to keep my eye on him. He looks too bloody fast." I thought. More later.
"Circle Up!" Captain F hollered. There were no anniversaries, but two birthdays. The first was for young Splashy; the second was for Capt. F. Then, in true hash tradition, he asked the young maiden's age. Capt. F calculated that he was surprised to find that he was at least five and half times older than her! We all laughed!
... around this now peaceful, beautiful, north Chilterns landscape ...
Splashy and Capt F, hatless birthdays
Gorjoyce lady seeks man with fine woggle for apres
Off on trail – the cunningly laid falsies leading north got half the pack, including Rapid, off to a bad start. The rest headed (Who said 'head'?) south, with Scooper in the van. As I approached the cross roads, Rapid sidled up to me and commented: "Now I see your cunning plan!" He was very polite!? Up onto the Hexton Road and right onto a farm track, Scooper, with pack in pursuit, was fast disappearing into the distance. I watched, as he passed the first falsie to the left of a stack of fresh cut timber. Then, as he approached the second falsie on the left (Dear reader, it was a clearly marked footpath), he ignored it: and headed towards the first 'off piste' Check! Flabbergasted by his blatant arrogance, I hastily shouted: "On Back!" Thankfully; disaster was avoided! It gave time for us with declining abilities and riding a chariot to catch up.
From the Check, the 'off piste' trail headed south up a steep sided tree clothed valley towards the Fort, but the long falsie going up a step hill to the east caught out Capt. F and Knobber. They weren't so polite. Then, the first '6 fishhook' reversed all the FRBs, leaving Lady P and Double Entry to arrive at the next Check. Giving it some thought, and taking my advice, DE set off determinedly on a falsie and loop, as Blowfelt now checked out.
Into a narrow tree clothed valley with broad swathes of mown grass the trail led to a 'Beautiful View' Holding Check. The pack assembled, and we took in the fantastic vista before us, I looked from tree to tree and dreamt that I was beside the mighty rivers of British Columbia! The Giant Redwood! The Larch! The Fir! The mighty Scots Pine! The smell of fresh cut timber! The crash of mighty trees! With my best girlie by my side – we'd sing! Sing! Sing!
It was here that the pack parted with Frau, Alexander in his chariot, Skippy and Splashy, the trail now being steep and somewhat all-terrain buggy unfriendly.
At the Beer Stop, Gorjoyce looked quite retired and gorgeous, as she bathed in the late evening setting sun. Somehow, she found it quite windy? Was it the whether? It must be her age, poor thing. Then, Lady P, standing in for the errant Hash Flash, began snapping happily away, as we all noshed on fresh strawberries and jelly babies, and slaked our thirsts on the provender provided by Kisses Anytime.
"In the Circle, I said that we would cross a main road only twice, and no other. So, we ain't gonna cross that one are we! So, guess which way the trail now goes?" I quipped. Mutter, mutter and more muttering ensued, then Nik-Nak had a flash of inspiration and said: "It goes back the way we came!" "Not quite! It goes straight on from the Lady Check, where you said it only had one boob." I retorted. [Limerick: There was a young girl from Devises, who had - - - - ] Then, we headed back to the one boob Lady Check, to take the top path skirting the woods, on to the second falsie that Scooper should have checked out.
Back at The Ravens, we were surprised to see White Rabbit. And, she was lookin' goo-ood! Having cum twice so far this year, she told us that now she is feeling spritely again, she was certain that she could cum three times! What stamina! Has she found a female version of Viagra, or perhaps, some ancient elixir that reverses the ravages of anno dominii?
Alice, the Bar Supervisor, and her staff enjoyed our company. They thought we were great fun, and had certainly brightened up their Monday evening shift. She hopes we can all cum again to please her. And she agreed with Catch It that we could eat our fundraising victuals!
Down-Downs: The usual trumped up excuses poured forth from Capt. F. Scooper was awarded one for being a fast 'Longdog' like Hash mutt Rudi. And, Ringer, having arrived late only to partake in the après hash, was nominated for his fine woggle!?
The Epilogue: Many of us are now beginning to resemble 'ancient monuments' as is Ravensborough Fort. And in conversation with Stallion (who's only cum once so far this year), we realised that where once we would cock a snook at a 5 mile + trail and run it in under an hour and a half; the effect of 'anno dominii' is befalling us all.
Unfortunately, there were no buttered scones for tea!
Many people think that hashing is a strange pursuit, but the residents of Hexton have done some strange things over the past millennia too. Search the website archive.org for 'The Hock-Tide observance at Hexton'.
ON ON FC