Run : 1006
Date : 1 March 2010
Venue : Horse & Jocky @ Tylors Green
Hares : David
Hounds : 24
Scribe : Roger

Tuesday’s run really began the day before, on Monday, because it did not rain.  That at least set the scene for a drier-than-we-have-seen-for-the-last-few-weeks ground.

Tuesday also went went.  Drying continued.  The run was close to home so I arrived earlier than usual and so was able to claim pole parking position.

Our hare for the evening was David B.  Claimed to be a virgin hare but you know, however much you sand and polish, you just cannot hide the evidence that shows you have done this before.  Also, the thoroughness of the preparation and the execution give the game away.  Not least persuading your wife to chaperone the runners over hill and dale while you take on the more onerous task of consoling the walking wounded at the bar.

To warm up, we made a loop around Tylers Green village hall, following a route only too familiar to anyone who has done the Penn 7 run, incorporating a bit of the run in followed by a little of the starting straight.

“Anyone for tennis” was heard as we passed the tennis courts to our right.  Thus distracted we stumbled into the bare fields beyond and headed for Pugh’s Wood.  Great care has to be taken negotiating the path down through the wood as roots and mud patches abound.

A long short split followed in Common Wood which was really an opportunity for us to see the false trail where the hare had mislaid his route.  Suitably impressed we regained the group just in time be split again.  Our route went up the hill towards Penn House, then just as abruptly down again to rejoin the main trail at Pennhouse Grove. 

This meant climbing back up the same hill we had just descended and into the environs of Winchmore Hill.

Another split took us to within spitting distance of the Potters Arms (and its welcoming fire) before wrenching us back to P11 and Branches Wood.  Downhill, note.

A quick dash along Penn Bottom Road saw us all safely into relative safety of Crown Lane (according to the map, although I am sure that I saw a road sign that said it was Noak’s Lane.  I will investigate further and report back).  An immediate right turn took us into fields again and a run along the valley floor.  No sign of the rest of the pack (shorts).  P25 took us uphill again and gave us an opportunity to look back at the moon.  T’was blood red we smelled ill fortune on the wind.  In times gone by I think I might have been tempted to make a sacrifice to appease the gods but it’s against Health and Safety regulations now, so I didn’t.

Puttenham place flashed by, as did two tennis players on bikes.  Is this a new form of biathlon?  Pop!!  We emerged back into civilisation by the Red Lion, saw that the Horse and Jockey was close by and upped our game.

Back in pub we were treated to a choccy extravaganza of “Rocky Road” because it was Maggie’s birthday (just past).  As a thank you we gave a noisy rendition of the usual song, accompanied by enthusiastic clapping from the landlord’s wife (who is Brazilian and runs a cleaning agency.  So says my mole).

While completing the register I saw Whipping Boy pocket a beer mat.  I looked quizzically at him.  He held it up.  “Brown” was written on it.  “My girlfriend’s surname said WB”.

Now if I had done and said this, you might have reasonably assumed that my memory was beginning to fail.  However WB has only just left the flush of youth behind him so a failing memory would probably not be appropriate.  I had another thought.  As WB is a single man, perhaps he has a spare room in his house (kept locked of course) that looks like a scene out Prime Suspect.  One wall is covered in photographs of current girlfriends.  His challenge is to remember all their names.  As an memory exercise, and because it is fun, he has to find and then match beermats to faces.
“Old Peculiar”.  Obviously the most recent ex.
“Dog Snifter”.  His brother's 8 pinter.

A prize for the most amusing response from our readers.

Sooper Cooper was also seated at my table.

A few minutes into his beer, he realized that he had left his mobile phone in his car.  Tic.  Index finger on right hand starts drumming on table.
Five minutes later, tic, tic. Left foot taps in synchronicity.
Five minutes more, tic, tic, tic.  Right cheek twitches in double time.
Five minutes more, tic, tic, tic, boom.  He jumps up and bids farewell.  “I can’t stand it any longer.  I might have missed a call”.  Off he runs to get his byte size fix.

So thanks Dave (and Maggie).  Went like clockwork.

Run : 1005
Date : 22nd February 2010
Venue : The Plough @ Hyde Heath
Hares : Roger
Hounds : 23
Scribe : Ken

Hash hares have had a pretty grim time of things over the last couple of months as far as the weather is concerned. Snow, icy winds, torrential rain, all have played their part.  Roger had managed to draw a cold, wet and foggy Tuesday for this evening’s excursion, a combination which would usually mean ankle deep ‘shiggy’ or worse along the cunningly devious country trails.

So I was very pleasantly surprised when he declared, before we set off, that there was virtually no mud on said route. And do you know, the most annoying thing was that I actually believed him! New hashers take heed, never believe a word the hare says, part of the job spec is to lie through your teeth.

Off we set across Hyde Heath common, with the lights from the Plough Pub quickly disappearing in the murky gloom. It was here that the G.M had shown remarkably poor ‘form’, for despite being perfectly attired for the run had chosen to stay in the pub supping ale and swapping golfing tales. Shame!

A few twists and turns and a couple of stiles brought us onto a concrete track which was never ending. At the end of the track was Hawthorne Farm.

Now, the owners of Hawthorne Farm are customers of mine, and I’ve been there many times in the past to fit satellite dishes, repair aerials, etc. The farm house is a large four storey manor house with many stables, barns and outhouses, but I never recognised any of it in the fog, only realising our whereabouts when we hit the B485 Chesham road.

A left then a right led us down Little Hundridge Lane (thanks for the map Roger) where I recognised part of Herberts Hole. Sunday morning eventers will know Herberts hole well. If this at all sounds slightly rude, rest assured, the only rude thing about Herberts hole is the sight of bedraggled runners returning from this mud bath of a run.

A check left into a field was missed by many (me included), who were hauled back with much muttering and protesting. We slithered and slid out way across the field then over a stile and down into swamp No 1, which was easily large enough to accommodate an extended alligator family. Here several front runners were picking their way back across the swamp, having encountered a cruelly placed 6 back, their comments about the hare cannot be printed in this family edition of Hash Trash.
Once through this traumatic section, we came to the long/short split. Here, Helen declared a bleeding nose, then downgraded it to a snotty nose.    Relieved, she sprinted off at the head of the longs.
Yours truly wimped out and went short, though with some concern. On more than one occasion, the shorts have arrived back at the pub much later than the longs, having mis-read the Hare’s ‘short trail map’, getting themselves hopelessly lost.
 Next came the ‘crocuses or were they snowdrops? Anyway, there was a huge patch of them, which we tried to avoid. If there are any horticulturists out there, please stay out there.

We now emerged back onto the Chesham road, not much more than a spit from where we had previously crossed it, then down Browns Lane (love that map), where Gerry and Dick missed a check that I then spotted taking us back into the woods.

We soon emerged to a check on a small, private road, but was it left or right? No flour could be found, so Mick and Barney consulted the Hares map and after much consideration, declared that it was definitely left. Only Gerry who had been checking way out saved us from ‘chipless oblivion’, finding flour. “On right” was called.

The final leg was down a hugely muddy path, running parallel with Hyde Heath road and curiously labelled LM37 on the splendid map, but I shall always remember it as Swamp No 2. It was boggy!
On Inn and back across the common to the very welcoming Plough Pub. A good hash Roger, set in difficult weather and it’s reassuring to know that you can lie with the best of them.

Run : 1004
Date : 16 th February 2010
Venue : The George @ West Wycombe
Hares : Ken
Hounds : 25
Scribe : Kerry / Kevin

It was another dark, cold, wet and muddy Tuesday night and what else is there to do?????  
We all met at the pub in an orderly fashion and surprise, surprise after last week’s disaster with people turning up late, Helen and Jo were there in plenty of time. (Helen doing a five mile run to the pub and Jo more sensibly driving).

After the usual waffle from the hare we headed towards the main West Wycombe Road.  There were a few ways to check and Ken would not even consider giving us a clue, finally on- on was called to the right and up Church Lane.  I very kindly gave Ken some flour last week and enquired as to whether he used it, but he just accused me of trying to sabotage his hash as it was wholemeal brown coloured flour, oops.

The hash proceeded up the first hill of the night, what a killer start!! It went almost what seemed to be vertically to the Mausoleum by West Wycombe Church and then continued through the church graveyard before looping back downhill to almost back where we started. Meanwhile, Audrey and Kerry and Ken took a short cut along the main road and waited for the rest of the hash to catch up. There were a few moans about the steep hill being so early in the run and such a long way it was then off down to the A40 towards Piddington.

After the next check we were sent up Toweridge Lane and another long, long hill. A few customary on backs followed and we continued into some woods and down the other side of Toweridge Lane to Sands. Whilst completing an on back up the hill, Kevin thought it would be a good idea to race a car back up the hill and Grahame followed along hanging onto the bumper to get pulled up. This gave everyone a good laugh.

Back down to the main road then a left round the West Wycombe Estate.  Most of us crossed a small foot bridge in the cow field, but a few idiots decided that it would be a good idea to run through the river to clean their shoes, though Yob should have probably have swam through it as he was covered in mud from an early moose where he did a forward summersault. Then it was up to the main West Wycombe Road again via Park Farm Road, where the shorts turned left and straight back along the road to the pub, result!!, the longs went right towards High Wycombe.

The longs soon crossed the road and turned left up a footpath and then up hill number three, through a field to Pheasant Drive, where the hill seemed to never end. At the top, we veered left through the woods and a muddy slippery path down through the trees and eventually down a field to Cookshall Lane.

Now the pub was virtually in sight and we could smell the well earned beer that was waiting. Once through the railway tunnel and across the Braddenham Road, just one field remained to be traversed and we were back.

Thanks to Ken for, by his standards, a pleasant run. Not sure what happened there Ken. You must be going a bit soft in your old age.

Run : 1003
Date : 9th February 2010
Venue : The Royal Oak, Stokenchurch
Hares : Kevin & Kerry
Hounds : 30
Scribe : Mick Jones

I must firstly mention the Hash Trash issue which followed our 1,000th and the red perambulation around High Wycombe whilst raising money in aid of the Haiti disaster.

Underneath “Hash Trash”, it read “Well done all - £1,550 raised for Haiti suspenders”. Interesting and no doubt a very worthy cause but not what I had imagined we were mugging the populace of Wycombe for.

That over, on to the hash. When your joint hare for the evening tells you the run is “quite horrible” and goes on about trip hazards, long distances, an abundance of shiggy and hills, you know that you are in trouble!

After Kev's warning warm up, we set off from the pub in what has become the direction of choice from this venue over the years – along a bit of the Chiltern Way before branching left to Mallard's Court. Here, whilst the longs were ushered left into Stockfield Wood, us shorts were sent straight on, running down to a field gate then on down a vicious hill, which we have on occasion been unlucky enough to be forced to run up by sadistic hares.

The track led to a track at below Red Sea level where the longs joined us and we quickly realised that Jane P was nowhere to be seen. Our intrepid leader, Benchbreaker Griffiths, gallantly volunteered to go back to find Jane, his gallantry aided by the fact that he had knackered his leg on Sunday at JAWS, a fact which he had pointed out within 50 yards of the pub.

Kerry and Aud later asserted that they had been running so well on the Sunday that David had done himself trying to keep up with them!!

Jane and David less, we went right along the valley and then up, up, up into Crowell Wood with someone, I think it was Ken the Aerial, telling me the hill was “a right pig and goes on for ever”. Correct on both points Ken.

Somewhere as the oxygen was starting to get thin, a regroup followed by a long/short split. From the very snazzy map Kev sent me, it seems that the longs did a very substantial loop back down past The Grubbin (no grub there I suppose), then through High Wood, Town's Wood and up to Sprig's Holly Lane to pass The Charles Napier, if it is still there given the sad number of hostelry closures.

Us shorts, led by Kerry, legged it straight on up the remainder of the ascent then down through copious shiggy to a crossing bridle path, this also well shiggied up.

We went right (the longs dropped down from S.H. Lane to this path) and proceeded along said shiggy fest passing a load of bricks, which Kev had pre warned us about, and the “X” which our hares had thoughtfully used to mark hazards following their reputation for dangerous runs gained last year.

Arriving at a metalled lane which heads to Bennett End, Ken gave a quick lecture upon the cosmos, pointing out many noteworthy stars. I can only assume this fine knowledge has been honed over many years of standing on roofs whilst erecting TV aerials and looking for his house.

We turned right along the Chiltern Way and, after a few hundred yards, Barney unerringly picked up the left hander across fields and up into Pophley's Wood. The wind must have been in the right direction to allow Barney's well tuned “Beer Compass” to kick in.

Up through the woods we ran/walked/staggered to emerge at a field which we squelched across to a crossing track, turning right to Raven Copse.

Ken, who has featured large in this report and who was a guest member of the SCS for the night, had a lengthy discussion with our hare, Kerry, pronouncing the forthcoming path through the woods to be another shiggy fest and declining to run it. I cannot remember what the upshot was but we dutifully followed our hare back to civilisation (not sure that parts of Stokenchurch qualify for the term civilised).

Back on pavements we arrived at a beer stop and met Aud, who had gone solo, coming from another direction . After the quaff, a nice gentle jog past Ken's house through housing to emerge at the boozer.

In the pub, not only chips were on offer, but cakes to celebrate Kerry's birthday and 150thrun marked by a very clever “Kerrygold” T shirt.

Helles Belles joined us, having arrived late, and I got the feeling she was not amused by not being able to follow the trail due to the lack of “kicking through”. Please note.

To Kev and Kerry – thanks for a Kracking, Korker of a run

Mick’s 500th Run
Run no1002
Venue: The Falcon, Wooburn Moor
Hare - Mick
Hounds: awaiting
Scribe – Benchbreaker

Having been warned off last week by Leslie Welsh, (he was the ‘The Memory Man’ for those of you under the age of 70), - a.k.a. the Landlady of the Pub, - whose recollection of a certain Tuesday evening’s innocent rendering of a few ‘Peter Paul and Mary’ folk songs by yours truly, when last the Hash visited her hostelry, - your scribe was aghast to find that he was regaled in the car park several times by the Hare by “I hope you haven’t brought your guitar, she still remembers you!”.

Clearly nobody recognizes true talent these days! But…more of that later!

Mick set us off very late, - even by normal Tuesday evening standards (usually waiting for Moose, or for Helen and Jo to arrive)..…. for one very good reason.

Dear Reader, (of course, that in itself makes an assumption that someone actually reads this drivel), why is it that every Tuesday without exception, certain female Hash members arrive in the car park early, - get out of their cars well before 7.45, - stretch,  - chat, - and then chat some more, - air kiss their friends, - ‘ Mwooh - Mwooh’, whom they haven’t seen for at least 7 days, - don their running shoes, - and, - chat a bit more, (this time, weather conditions, lipstick, hair styles, tips on reversing, nail cuticle applications, nappies, locating the handbrake and flower arranging), - then, - and only then, - as soon as the hare calls for order and the Hash is in the circle awaiting instructions, - decide it’s time to go to the loo?

As I don’t fancy being knee capped, I won’t mention the culprit………… but SHE KNOWS WHO SHE IS!

Anyway, off up the hill with Moose actually on time and Helen of course, nowhere to be seen.

‘Dog muck alley’ springs to mind to describe the uphill toxic waste area masquerading as a path. This odyssey paid tribute to the entire canine population of Wooburn Moor. Obviously “man’s best friends” utilize the Bronze Age highway to defecate not once, but several times a day. (Incidentally, ‘Twist’ added his contribution to the noxious toxicant cocktail, - after only 40 yards).

Upon reaching the road at Glory Mill Farm Helen duly appeared, and promptly passed most of us who were still gasping for breath and shot off to do another check.

It was everyone for themselves; - take your life in the hands and cross the main road, through the car park opposite, into the wood and then the first long\short split.

Over to our Long-running correspondent.  Well it is difficult to be comprehensive as I had arrived some 20 minutes late and had to catch up – eventually meeting the long cutters around 2¼ miles out from the pub, gasping for Oxygen and in no condition to recognize where we were or what was going on.  (Aside, brilliantly trail marked Mick, the clear arrows were a real and easy-to-follow boon) Checking the map later I think I caught up somewhere near Windsor Hill, after which we turned North and headed for Holtspur.  But in truth much of it is a blur.

I remember Whipping Boy’s comment that all eleven of the ten of us were here and I remember briefly meeting the short cutters before splitting again somewhere north of the A40.  I think we must have got close enough to Jane’s house so that it wouldn’t really be worth her while carrying on back to the pub.  But she carried on anyway – there must be something about hashing that makes normally intelligent people stupid! – but now let us short-cut back to the other run
 
Across fields without any sign of flour, (it was hard for Mick and his assistant Audrey), as torrential rain had washed out the markings, -but on we went in a flash. Holtspur, Holtspur Bottom, The Chiltern Line Bridge and a ‘who’s too fat to slide through that narrow gap competition’ for the shorts’ then down the hill past ‘The Raj Madoodoo Bangalore Torpedo Curry House’ and On In.

Back in the pub, after a short tribute to David Busby, Mick was awarded a suitable 500th Run present, - courtesy of Barney’s intricate and in depth research for the said article.

Was it to be another T shirt? we thought as Mick, with trembling fingers, opened the box, was it a crate of Sanatogen? maybe a Porton Resuscitator, or two, would help the poor old codger, we surmised.

No, Barney had indeed come up trumps, - it was indeed the most suitable present for our dear Hare Raiser… ever, - namely, an engraved hip flask to enable him to revive Audrey half way round each hash, - with her daily dose of Bailey’s.

Meanwhile, the 3 guitarists were having orgasms riffing and strumming away with instantly forgettable tunes (Ed’s aside, I remember them playing Hotel California) in the far corner, as we devoured the chips and, like everyone else in the pub, ignored them.

Well done Mick, the run was all the more surprising really, as all portents of a miserable night before us proved to be utterly wrong, - we had a cracking run over some interesting countryside - and at a fair clip too.
 
Well done to you and your Bailey’s infused assistant.

Bring back that salacious old codger though, with his repertoire of the dirty rugby songs, I say!

Run: 1001
Venue Car Park Great Missenden             
Date: 26 january 2010
Hounds :36
Hare: Gerry
Scribe : Grahame

Following the balmy atmosphere of last week’s hash, there was a distinct chill in the air as 30 or so hashers pulled into the GM car park. The GM himself had parked his car in pole position for easy exit, not surprisingly as he had arrived some 3 hrs earlier. Shivering under a woolly hat, one wonders why he hadn’t turned the heater on. We welcomed a virgin hasher called Simon. Well, he was actually a hasher of many years standing, with a hash name of “Stallion”. When asked why that was his name he said "It was too long ago to remember"!

And so we all gathered for Hash 1001, which had a sinister Orwellian feel about it. Could it be that we were all going to be subjected to our worst nightmares at 10 times the intensity of the original room 101? When our illustrious hare Gerry began his briefing, the tension turned to anxiety as he indicated there was going to be a very tricky bit for the long cutters, and as the short cutters relaxed, he added with a smile that there will be plenty of shiggy for everyone.

There was plenty of banter as the trail headed south east before turning south west through Abbey Park. The recent successful Hash Bash started fading from both memory and conversation as we were lead up the hill and into Nag’s Head Lane.

At just before the 2 mile point we arrived at the long short split. Interestingly 50 percent turned north to go short, while the remainder, with some trepidation, turned south.

After about 5mins the shorts were about to hit some soft stuff, with Kerry accusing Steve of causing major discoloration to her designer trainers. At this very moment the FSBs in the long cutter group faced an even sterner task. As the blobs of flour turned to arrows at ever shorter intervals, how considerate of the hare to make following the run so easy. Of course the FSBs ran straight into the trap, and were suddenly confronted by a vertical drop into a quarry. Unbeknown to them there was a much easier route which Helen managed to find, closely followed by Roger. Now the ever observant Roger had noticed this and called Helen a wimp, and then chuckled when she moosed. But the keen eyed Roger had failed to spot a root, and promptly fell flat on his back, while Helen picked herself up, and ignoring his plight, scampered on.

On on was called and before long we found ourselves running up to the Full Moon pub, with many of us running into a haze of thick cigarette smoke, courtesy of  a few drinkers outside the pub standing with the usual navel contemplation gaze of the outdoor smoker.

Soon we were drifting from farm to farm, and as we ran across yet another field, Kevin thought that some mad horse woman had screeched at us sometime in the distant past nearby. At this point Helen stopped dead in her tracks, thinking she was the subject of the conversation. Now this event had two effects on Helen. First, she had to abandon a conversation with Jo about the advantages of the latest Nike sports bra with integrated goretex nipple warmers. Secondly, she had contrived to miss an on back addressed specifically for her, so she has been elected to do a personal check back next week.

Just as we were nearing the end, Gerry the hare decided that we were going to have a race, with a prize for the winner. This race involved running to a line of trees in the distance, and when the first person reaches the trees, everybody turns around and sprints back. Gerry started the race, and we were off. The older male hashers bravely ran as fast as they could believing they were as fast as they were when they were twenty. The young guns decided on alternative strategies, while one hasher went hells bells for it. Who reached the trees first? You guessed it! At this point the younger males were climbing over each other to get back to the start, and it was Simon the whipping boy who came in first. Unfortunately he made a complete hash of his choice of tactics, and was rewarded with the first prize – to set a choice of his hash in March. On on.

Run: 1000
Venue Hobgoblin @ High Wycombe             
Date: 23 January 2010
Hounds :33 (but 63 for the bash in the evening!
Hare: David
Scribe : Gerry

RED DRESS RUN = click here for the photos

There was a sea of red as we gathered outside the pub for our 1000th run.  The Haiti appeal buckets we were to carry soon attracted what little attention the red dresses failed to gather.  Coins started to roll in even before we began the collections. 

The red dresses were spectacular (or do I mean we made a spectacle of ourselves?) and ranged from Natasha’s sexy thigh high split through to twin tutus, and from the bling of Jane’s shiny red wig to Mark’s ingenuity in converting a jumper into a skirt.

Off we set - down to the first stop in Ade’s shop where we were greeted with smiling faces and red balloons, which we took around the rest of the trail.  The Long Short split took the Longs up the long hard hill towards Cressex.  On the way we collected a shopping trolley for a short way – or rather the shopping trolley collected Bernie who was pushed uphill at great speed by Matt and Yob.  The inelegance of shopping trolleys ensured that Bernie couldn’t help displaying an entirely new side to her character. 

Helen also came up with the concept of invisible check backs – but as she caught herself more than anyone else we shouldn’t really complain.  Obviously we did complain, but we shouldn’t have done so.
Pausing only to collect more buckets from Aud, the competition to collect more money from passers by intensified, with Roz almost mugging a couple of motorists – but as they left smiling I guess they enjoyed the experience.  Into the welcoming environs of ASDA, whose tannoy announcement helped greatly, and then on to the pre-arranged run around John Lewis – we had got as far as the cafeteria before we were politly asked to collect outside.  One lady tipped her purse up into the bucket (I am sure the condom will come in useful).  Another lady, actually the wife of a client of, gave an extra £5 just because of my suspenders.

Staggering on under the rapidly increasing weight of money, we eventually found ourselves back in the pub, where a good time was had by all.

Just as staggering as us wobbling under the weight of the collection was the £1550 we collected!  Well done all!

Run: 999
Venue Blackwood Arms @ Littleworth Common             
Date: 19 Jan 2009
Hounds :29
Hare: Graham
Scribe : Gerry

As we collected at the Blackwood Arms for Graham’s virgin Hare hash,  I remember idly wondering if that women will ever be equal to men unless they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut still thinking they look sexy? 

As usual rules for the evening were announced and ignored among the conventional badinage and we set of, again as usual, with me checking in completely the wrong direction.   The trail took us along to the main road and over it to the long, long path that Lesley took us down on her 50th Birthday hash.  This time there were fewer ducks.

The first long short split came at the end of the path, with the shorts going left and the long’s failing to find the trail in any direction.  After each path had been checked three times with nothing found anywhere we came up with a plan.  The plan was to check it a forth time and then try to loose half of the long runners.  This worked admirably until we decided, having spent some 10 minutes trying to find the trail, to follow the short route and to catch up. 

About then we realised that the idea of loosing some of the long cutters, although amusing at the time, hadn’t been fully thought through.  So we spent another few minutes shouting and sending out search parties.

Eventually we caught up with the re-grouping short cutters and set off again, but soon noticed that the hare wasn’t with us.  Being a caring hash with a deep concern for the welfare of lost hashers we totally ignored this and ploughed on anyway.  Eventually, a tired but surprisingly cheerful Graham caught up from the rear saying he had cut over from the short trail to where the longs should have been but weren’t.  So, for the second time that day, he ran the long route alone.

Somewhere deep in the next forest I was impressed at the unusual flickering effect caused, obviously, by the speed I was running through the densely packed trees.  Then the trees, like most hashers, turned strangely dim.  Then my torch battery died and I was left in total darkness.

So, where we went after that I don’t know as I didn’t see it.   And without a torch I decided to take the second short cut so don’t know where the Long group went either, but the myriad of flushed and sweaty faces when they arrived back confirmed they had had a good time.

Excellent first hash Graham!