Run No 982
Venue The Rainbow Inn @ Assenden
Date 29 Sept 2009
Hare Sam
Hounds 29
Scribe Roger
Map of Run: Click here for a map

Last week we were in Maidensgrove, this week it was Middle Assendon, making it two weeks in succession that we ventured into Oxfordshire for the Hash.  Both Sam and I evidently had the same thought that we had not ventured into this area for a while and should do so before the long nights set in with a vengeance.

Also for the second week in a row, Leslie could be all a-trembly at the thought of running through Bix Bottom and for a second time be frustrated.

The start of the run was delayed a little as we waited for Hashers to arrive, as for quite a large proportion of us, this area is a long way from home, both in time and distance.
Sam was also keen that there was to be no repetition of last week when a significant proportion of the pack took matters into their own hands and lost themselves in the surrounding countyside.

Off we went at last, right and right again, which meant uphill.  Around here up really does mean up, which was quite a shock to the system and lead to legs heavy with lactic acid by the time the land levelled out.

Little Bixbottom lay to our right and there it would remain until we reached Bix and Bix Common, where it became our rear. 

We successfully negotiated the speeding motors on the Nettlebed road to pass by Bix Manor Farm and on towards Lambridge Wood.  All the while we ran parallel to the map height contours, which allowed us to make distance without undue pain.  That was reserved for later.
Not long after passing Lambridge farm we made out descent to the Fair Mile on the outskirts of Henley where Sam gave us the first of two challenges.  This was a paired sprint over half a mile, pairs setting off every 5 seconds.  Needless to say, the usual suspects ended up arriving first, even though they were saving their energy for the Budapest trip.  Also, whatever niggles that lay dormant in our legs before the sprint, they awoke with a vengeance after it.

Barely had we regrouped than Sam offered the second challenge (although it was not apparent at the time that it was a challenge).  Short run straight up the valley road, or something a bit longer if you turned right.

Well, the right turn went towards Fawley.  I have always driven to Fawley in the past and did not appreciate that it was as high as Snowdon.  The road went up, and up, and up and up.
And if that wasn’t enough up, the selective on-backs ensured there was more up and up.  Till Crockmore Farm, that is, where we turned for home.  Odd that the ensuing down did not feel as down as the up.  Then On-Inn.

Back in the pub, we overwhelmed the locals through shear weight of numbers (as no one had managed to lose themselves on the run, this week at least).

Roz W carried around (with the permission of the kind landlady) a large platter of chocolate brownies to celebrate her birthday that day and Mike C was on his best behaviour given the temptation of his favourite foodstuff in front of him (according to Judy, his diet that day had comprised mainly chocolate anyway).
The recipe can be found by following this link.

http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/chocolate-recipes/bloomin-brilliant-brownies

The GM was present this day and gave his speech without notes or sound amplification.
Firstly congratulations to Roz and Maggie for successfully negotiating the Great North Run, comprising both the start and the subsequent 13 miles (there are now so many people taking part in this race that you spend more time waiting for the race to start than you take for the actual run).  In the process they raised over £1200 for Marie Curie Cancer Research.

Secondly, a warm welcome to one of our “old” regulars, Ewan Brown, who is back briefly in the UK for his 26th hash (if the rumours of his and Lucy’s desire to settle in Australia are true, he will have to change his email address to something more apposite).

Thirdly, a warning to all members of the Hash and Jaws going to Budapest this weekend for the marathon not to dissipate their energy the night before the race by being all unnecessary.  This was received with a look of relief on some faces and “incredulity that he needed to say this” on others.  How this was to be effected was made clear afterwards.  One hasher uses her night attire as a form of semaphore to send a message.  In Budapest it will say “Niet”.  My mind wandered and I tried to think what the signal might have been, in Drake’s time, to indicate that the Armada was on its way.

Another said that she had been married long enough to know how to snuff out such insurrection.   I don’t know why there is a problem.  It is not as if one’s sleep need be disturbed.

Finally, it was Tosca night and there was no shortage of possible contenders for the honour, but the prize was eventually awarded to Kevin (abetted by Kerry) for setting the most dangerous Hash in our long history from the Dashwood Arms.

Later that evening I was amazed to see Jennifer (niffer) bouncing up and down on her seat, waving her arms excitedly in the air.  Being nosy, I asked her what had happened.  She said that she had just read the Hash trash and seen her own name in print.  This must be the most excitement generated by any Hash trash.  If she does the same to this mention of her, perhaps we have started something that will ripple forward in

 

Run No 981
Venue Five Horseshoes @ Maidensgrove
Date 22 Sept 2009
Hare Roger
Hounds 28 (mainly lost) souls
Scribe Jo
Map of Run: Click here for a map

As is the norm with Helen and I, we were running a bit late and zooming along the country lanes at a rate of knots to aim to get to the pub before everyone had left, and tonight we were in luck.  As we pulled into a car park the size of a football pitch there was still quite a gathering.  Apparently, according to our hare, we had come the long way to pub… well, we do like a challenge, life would be boring if you did everything the easy way!!

So, as usual we missed the briefing, but I heard mutterings of a 3.5, 4.5 and 5.5, a route for every hasher!  Although as you will see later on it didn't quite turn out that way in reality! 

By the time we had both donned our head torches, bibs, faffed with keys, bags and the boot,  everyone had trotted off right out of the car park, but tonight's hare, Roger, stayed back to point us in the right direction.  The first on-on took us down a very steep field.  Thankfully it was dry and breezeless night, otherwise that hill may have caused a few casualties!  Running down it I heard Roger and Helen behind me talking about the write-up.  (Yes, you did read correctly, that isn't a typo… Helen was behind me!!!)  Roger very sweetly and pleadingly asked Helen if she would do the report to which I heard a screaming reply "not a chance in hell".  Roger had got the message and I knew what was coming next…. so here I am, slaving over a hot keyboard.

Not sure I can give you all the finer details of the hash as I don't really pay much attention to where we're going (typical sheep), I'd much rather use up extra energy exercising my jaw and talking to whoever is willing to listen, or listen to other hashers stories, in particular Niffer with her interesting life in Nigeria.  After we survived the steep downhill, during which time there were grumblings of 'beeping 'ell, I bet there's a hell of a hill we've got to come up after that' (we're a clever bunch), we were on up and over a couple of stiles and through a field, into another field, and another field I think! 

In the last field there was some confusion as to where we should go.  The FRBs had been heading for the top left corner with the rest following (typical sheep) but FRBs suddenly took a turn and sprinted across the top of the field.  Now I don’t know how the confusion started but most of the hash started to cut across the field and join the FRBs on their on-back thinking they themselves were running in the wrong direction!  (Typical sheep)., thankfully one of the FRBs managed to shout louder than the rest and confirm that they were in fact on an on-back and everyone else should not panic and calmly make their way to the top left of the field.  Confusion everywhere and you're probably even more confused after my waffling explanation of the event!

Jumping to the end of the hash for a moment, waking into the pub and realising there was no sign at all of the medium's or the short's.  There was a very eerie atmosphere inside the deserted pub, mutterings that the Nettlebed Triangle may have something to do with their disappearance.  It all apparently started after we ran across Nettlebed common and came to the long/short split at a single track road that leads to a junction at the corner of Stockings Plantation.

At this point I am going to confess to blatant plagiarism and use the contents of Roger's e-mail to me with the detailed explanation of where the missing hashers went wrong…..

The shorts went left along this single track road going North east, and the longs went right and ran around a loop to Crocker End and back to the long/short split. There was a check in Crocker End where the path NE7 met a road.  Ade was the last one to come back from checking up this path and he said to Roger that there were more hashers behind him.  Roger figured that Ade must have seen the shorts going towards Stockings Plantation as all others were accounted for.  However, just in case, Roger put another arrow down on the road pointing out the correct route, in addition to the arrow on the check circle.  The longs then went back to the long/short split and turned right up the road towards Stockings Plantation.

Roger thinks the shorts got to the check where path NE7 meets this road, checked right along NE7, then decided that there was some flour on a cow pat (perhaps just a crusty bit of pat) and called it right.  (Ed’s aside: The person who called it the wrong way will remain anonymous – but Kerry knows who she is). This lead the group towards Crocker End where they missed the arrow signs on the road.  Where they went after this no one knows but David G suggests they went all the way into Nettlebed  (not very far, really), where they knocked on a house to ask for directions.  Roz said she could hear us (the longs) calling ahead of her group as they crossed a field with cows, which is consistent with Roger's theory.

Anyway, once they got back on the Soundess House road, they would have seen signs all the way back to the pub.  Phew!!!!

As for the original short cutters, it is a total mystery as to where they went, even though they had a map, but they caught up with the mediums eventually.  Phew!!

So the longs ended up at the pub first for a change, and the mediums and shorts coming in a close second.  Well… not that close really, probably about 20 minutes later!  Good to see Sarah again, with a healing ankle helped along by a frisk walk tonight.  Thanks to Roger for a good hash, although according to Mike it was the most horrendous hash ever, he said as he staggered through the door!  Blame the Nettlebed Triangle I say, not Roger! 

 

Run No 980
Venue Royal Standard @ Wooburn Green
Date 15 Sept 2009
Hare Phil
Hounds 33
Scribe Matt

Summer running is well and truly over now! It had been cold all day leading up to Phil's run from the Royal Standard and to cap thing off it was now raining. I was tempted (more to do with the fact it was my turn to pen the hash report than the rain) to give it a miss but Roz was having none of it and insisted we go, so blame her for this drivel.

Fortunately the rain had eased as the hash gathered but it is torches from the off now, proper autumn hashing. The tone of the hash was set right from the first check when Graham and Roger called on-on straight along the road. Hashers being hashers the majority decided to go right into Sheepcote Wood instead, even ignoring the upside-down on inn. When order was regained the hash headed off towards Odds Farm the shorts peeled of left and the longs carrying on through a mobile home park then across Wooburn Common.

Having the memory span of a gold fish I really don't know where we went from there. I've spent most of today studying Multi Map to try and cobble something together, so this may be an accurate summery of where we went or more likely a complete work of fiction.

The longs may or may not have doubled back along Green Common Lane before heading to Dipple Wood and Over's Farm. We possibly ran through Mill Wood because we definitely emerged from some woods and stopped to admire the view across the valley to Wooburn Green, the M40 and Ade's house before a long descent to a lane that might have been Windsor Hill. The rout could have dropped into Wooburn Green, zig zagged through a residential area before entering Wooburn Manor Park. Here a group of hoodies did their best to create a smoke screen or should that be skunk screen to hide the trail but the intrepid hashers took a deep breath and carried on regardless.

After a long downhill there is the inevitable pay back and this came in the form of a long grind up through Wash Hill Wood or maybe not. Natasha did point out that the pub was just a short way along the road at the top of the hill which is indeed true and as it was by now 9.30 it was a very fair assumption to make - but Phil hadn't finished with us yet. Instead we went back down hill in the opposite direction through Farm Wood. By now thoughts were turning to hares and disembowelment until Phil's car came into sight parked in Broad Lane, this could mean one of two things - Phil's into dogging or a beer stop. Needless to say it was a beer stop but with Champagne, muffins and birthday cake as well as beer. The occasion for these treats was Janet's birthday, I couldn't make out the number on the cake but Gerry did venture it was 21 again, a blatant lie as Janet must be pushing 35.

On the way back to the pub there was one last chance for the hash to go the wrong way, going as we did down Coach Alley instead of Sheepcote Wood where we had already seen the on inn.

Back in the pub the treats continued with more cake and plenty of chips. Thanks Phil for a great run and Janet for the cake and chips, sorry if this report has nothing to do with where we really went

PS we all need to keep an eye (or preferably a lead) on Gerry as, at a this week’s hash venue, he holds the record for getting lost, losing both his way and the rest of the hash whilst still in the car park!

 

Run No 979
Venue The Dog & Duck @ Highmore near Nettlebed
Date 8 Sept 2009
Hare Mat
Hounds 23
Scribe Kevin
Map of run: Click here for maps

We were all gathered at the Dog and Duck at Highmoor (near Nettlebed), but the hare was nowhere to be seen and then as if by magic Matt suddenly appeared from nowhere behind the waiting pack. The rules were normal hash rules, except for a rather curious new marking, which was only explained as an MMMMC.  Matt explained that anybody who could decipher the meaning of this acronym would win a prize. This caused much head scratching and a few suggestions were made, which more often than not seemed to end in the word CHIPS. Matt then made a long speech about how he wanted to keep with tradition and set a half marathon, but then decided that a nice short flat run without any shiggy would be more suitable. Apparently, there was a long run of five miles, a medium of four and a ridiculously short run of only three miles. 

The hash began at 7.45pm precisely, but was soon suspended as we had to regroup in the woods to wait for a few late comers.  The run proceeded through a long wooded area for what seemed like ages and was very annoyingly (and painfully for those brave runners in shorts) overgrown with loads of stinging nettles.  I guess this is why it is called Nettlebed.  After running for a while we stopped at a field and Roz pointed out a rather impressive statue of a knight on horse back which also had wings. It was mentioned (do not know by who) that the horse was a rather well endowed animal at which point, Audrey immediately pulled out her mobile and started to take photos!!!  When we eventually dragged Audrey away, we carried on past a farm trail with lots of sheep droppings,  and a frightened baby hedgehog - which was even more scared by the time Roz had finished shining her torch at it and prodding it. 

Off again through more woods and more lovely nettles  and then some SHIGGY (all hashers lie), until we reached the first long-medium / short split. Impressively nobody opted for the 3 miler. This was not your usual hash, as without some of the regular FRB’s on show, there were a few unexpected sights to behold. I recall that I saw Barney and Audrey running in the wrong direction after coming across an “on – back” and Kerry was full of energy and she found herself at the front of the pack for at least three “on-backs”.

After some more running through woods, we eventually came across the new marking of MMMMC, which was mentioned at the outset. Some of us thought that Kerry had already guessed the meaning half way round, when she came up with “Matt Marries Miss Manxie at Christmas” but although this was good it was not right. Anyway, upon reaching the marking, Matt finally explained that it stood for “Manxie’s Mad Manic Mile Challenge” or at least I think it was something like that.

The idea was this. The pub was approx half of a mile to the left. The challenge was for anyone to turn right and complete a circuit of one mile and get to the pub before all of those that would turn left. There would be a prize for those in the winning team. We all returned to the pub for some much needed refreshments including the customary chips. Thanks Matt.

Oh by the way, the short cutters won out and were awarded a prize of a box of chocolates to share.

Run No 978
Venue The Dashwood @ Piddington
Date 1 Sept 2009
Hare Kerry & Kevin
Hounds 38
Scribe Jane (Legover)
Map of run: Click here

We were all suitably gathered round and under starter’s orders for Kevin and Kerry’s hash from the good old faithful Dashwood Arms.

The route took us right out of the car park. In no time at all we were widdling our way through the streets of Piddington. We then up the steep scenic Piddington Lane. This time missing out the Polo ground and Helen’s special assault course on the left.  We arrived at Wheeler End Common, where we were presented with several options.  On on was shouted across the common past the pub with rip off chips and down the little road which was sheet ice earlier in the year, then towards Hickenden Farm.

As usual I was near the very back with husband, Loud Millie and Sensible Megan.  Oh and Mike.  He was taking it easy from his crash in the woods last week.  I offered him the use of Megan power which he took me up on, in the process trying to trip people up with poor control of the extendable lead.  We then took a right across a field by some very smart farm machinery, before turning left across the field, dropping down, then the ground started to rise, so I politely asked if he would like to exchange the steady eddy Megan for 500 BHP Millie power!  He sensibly declined.  We now were approaching some woods called Barn woods.  At this point it was turn your touches on time! (Ed's Aside - Touches? Sounds like a Freudian slip to me!)

I took back Megan from Mike as the path down into the woods was narrowing steep and flinty.  I was chatting away about something that happened 3 years earlier.  A hash crash I had in the woods over in Farnham Common direction and that touch wood no serious incidents had happened to me since, when bang.  I twisted my left ankle and the next thing I know I’m laying in the dirt on my side, thinking “bugger my knee hurts!“ Kevin came racing back up the path and I can see my knee doesn’t look normal, as there is an enormous bump under my tracksters, without pulling my trouser leg up. Kevin takes a look, as I wouldn’t and said ‘that looks ok, just get yourself back to the pub.’ Mike, Kevin and Steve helped me off the floor. It took 3 grown men to move me, due to all the chips I ate last week, which you can see on the front page of the website, as I explode before your eyes!

We three short cut our way through Barn Wood to Fillingdon Farm and back to the pub. Upon arrival I decided to order a drink and pulled up my trouser leg.  Everyone in the pub that was near me at the time stepped back about 3 paces when they saw my knee.  It was gross. I looked for approx 1 second and said to Steve, I think you need to take me to casualty.

After my crash the scribe will become rather more vague as I wasn’t there.  So I believe from maps I have been given that you all headed from Barn wood to Finnington Wood, across to Third Wood running parallel to the A40, by Studley Green to Horsley Green.  At this point you take a path between some properties (houses? I’m guessing now) across a field to more woods. Turning sharp right back in the direction of the A40 again. Now somewhere round here, which I found out much later in casualty, is where our lovely Sarah took a tumble, badly spraining her ankle. More info on this later.

Now I’m not sure at this point, if this is where the long short split was, or if the shorts make their way towards Waterend and The City.  Apologies for not knowing.  I suspect you somehow meandered your way back to the pub.  The longs look like they had a nice yomp round The City and came back quite a direct path so I reckon via Ashridge Farm and Studley Green Farm. Did you then pick up the Old Oxford road back to the pub? This would have kept you off the main drag.

Ed’s aside,  OK Jane, good guess but totally wrong – that’s the route I followed with my GPS – but most of it was in Kevin’s car as he came back to drive Sarah (who could only just hop on one leg at this point) back to the pub.  As soon as Sarah hurt herself the hash instantly organised itself into rescuers, and people with phones with no signal.  It was pretty obvious that despite her brave stoicism, poor Sara was in a lot of pain so people were sent off to phone and get a car.  Some few minutes later Helen and Sam returned to say they still couldn’t get a signal – then there was yet more rushing up hills and down dales to get one.  Then – low and behold they got a signal – but none of the hashers at the pub had their phones turned on!  So Helen used her vast mental powers (OK phone) and phoned Dick, who phoned the pub and help was soon on its way. 

A brief stop in the pub and we convinced Sarah that A&E was a good idea and off we trotted. OK, technically Sarah didn't trot as much as hop like a humorous frog with one leg, banging into things such as doors and tables.

I trust the chips were up to the usual standard and that Kevin and Kerry received a good round of applause for the most hazardous hash in history.  Ed’s Aside  Sorry I don’t know either – they looked good but we dashed past them n the way to hospital)

Anyway on the way to casualty Steve wasn’t sure if A & E still existed in Wycombe, or if we had to go all the way to Stoke Mandeville. We hit High Wycombe and rolled (hobbled) up and to my delight it was still taking in idiots like me.

I signed in, sat down, and then was called through to be ‘Triaged’! What a lovely experience that is. Then I was told to go back out to reception and wait.  Sometime later I was called through again, but this time, I meet “Scary man with needles and stitches!“ Lovely! I lie down on the bed and hear a charmingly delightful young doctor in the next cubicle who knows how to woo his patients.  Not mine.  I make small talk saying what time to you finish tonight?  (Ed’s Aside – Attagir! What a time to flirt! Is that how you got your Hash Handle?)

He says with one word ‘Midnight’ I didn’t think this through, maybe he thought I was chatting him up.  God no!  (Ed's aside, Hmmm still sound's like chatting up to me!) Basically he was a miserable git who threw the local anaesthetic needles (all 4 of them) at my knee like a darts player.  Five stitches later I hobble back out of the cubicle into the reception area. Guess who I saw? Sarah, Gerry and support crew. It was like a private HWH3 party in casualty. Sarah and I shared a pain killing Cadbury Twirl bar (no substitute for chips) but still nice all the same.

As I mentioned earlier she had sprained her ankle. I said I hope you don’t get my miserable doctor and get Prince Charming instead.  She got the grumpy one, who said ‘oh god not another one’! Anyway I was just glad to get out of there before the clock struck twelve. No not before I change into a pumpkin or anything, but the very next day was Steve and my 2nd wedding anniversary and I didn’t fancy starting it off in Wycombe Casualty dept.

Ed's aside: Alls well that ends well - and Sarah was given a pair of crutches, converting her into an instant peg-legged Pirate - we must remember to buy her an eye patch and parrot to complete her outfit!

Sorry it is rather long this week, but there was a lot to get through.

On on!

Run: 977
Venue: Wheel @ Naphill
Date: 25h August 2009
Hare:Jane (Legover) Pryor
Scribe: Ken
Hounds - 41

Click here for a amp of the run

The phone rang at 6.45. It was Sam, enquiring if he could hitch a ride to the Hash, OK says I. As soon as I put down the receiver, there was huge crack of thunder and the heavens opened. Damn it I thought, committed to going now. The thought of sipping a glass or two of wine in front of the TV suddenly seemed enormously appealing.

Nil desperandum, (I expect Gerry knows what that means), we arrived at the pub just in time to nick the last parking place, then Anthony parked behind us! So Sam and I squeezed out of the car to chat with the assembling throng.

The G.M said he’d just returned from white water rafting in the Grand Canyon, which to be fair is a pretty cool thing to do on a Tuesday afternoon and I think his shorts were still damp, but it was difficult to be sure!

Jane P. Out intrepid hare for the evening then told us that we must leave what seemed to me, to be a perfectly good pub car park and cross the road to the public car park, where we were given important instructions (well I think they were important, actually I wasn’t listening, oops, sorry!)

We then crossed back over the road to the pub, (Hares know best, don’t they), called The Wheel, which sounds like some kind of medieval torture machine, maybe a sign of things to come? Check it out.

We slipped off down Stocking Lane and into the meadows beyond and at this point I was lying 19th, but then a cruel 12 back swiftly followed by a 6 put me at the head of the field as we descended into the dark woods beyond. 

Obviously too dark for some, as Mike, a way behind me apparently moosed and abandoned his run. It never ceases to amaze, as to how much blood people are prepared to shed to get back to the pub early.  The run through Piggots Wood seemed to go on forever with much back tracking and general procrastination until we finally arrived at the long short split with the longs having missed the check and gone short. Eventually, they were hauled back and pushed off in the right direction, me included, into the fields beyond.

We soon encountered a herd of Jersey cows who were determined not to let us pass, which was somewhat strange as we had no dogs with us, and they had no calves. Usually, if you confront a herd of cows which Ade and I did, they back off. Not this lot, however, and they soon had me surrounded and isolated from the rest of the hash. Defence is the best form of attack I thought, so I approached each one individually  and explained how unreasonable and impolite I thought they were being, only to be greeted with flailing back legs and much attempted head butting (and the cows were getting pretty nasty too). As I scrabbled over the stile, the herd bull appeared right behind me, and it dawned on me that this was why they were being so unusually bold.

We dropped down onto Speen road, and began running up the hill into the village. Ade’s local knowledge saved the hash from running too far up the hill, when he spotted a concealed arrow, and we cut through Pye Corner. Then Guys Spring descended rapidly into Flowers Bottom, (oh dear, see, that’s what happens when you try and copy someone else’s comic writing style, sorry Super Cooper, promise it won’t happen again).

We groped around Flowers Bottom for some time (stop it now!), eventually finding the trail up the very steep ascent into Courns Wood. It was now 9.30 and the Hash seemed to lose the will to live at this point, with several hashers having gone lame, most out of breathe and torches failing.

Desperate consultation of the map that Jane had given to Sam revealed a short cut straight back down the main road to the pub, ‘though I began to feel like an escape from Stalag 17 as we tried to extricate ourselves from the RAF camp at Walters Ash.

Finally, we arrived back and as I entered the pub, only a large silver platter remained, that had obviously once been piled high with chips, sadly no more. So I consoled myself with a windfall apple, that I think Maggie brought, mmm – delicious.

A good hash Jane, perhaps a little on the long side (how dare HE say that you’re thinking, well I just did). Oh, and the weather – it was fine!

Run: 976
Venue: Fox & Hounds, Christmas Common
Date: 18th August 2009
Hare:Ken
Scribe: Jane
Hounds - 44

Click here for a map of the run

With the knowledge that hash routes are now available on line, the scribe was able to pay even less attention to the route than normal…………

It was a beautiful evening.  Arriving ‘just in time’ I was pleased to tuck into the last possible parking space but then was surprised at the empty the car park. Finding out that this was a request from the landlord, so other potential customers passing by, didn’t think the pub was busy, seemed unlikely and  so I pondered…. Is it the hashers or their cars that weren’t wanted?

Still distracted by the pondering, I heard Ken welcome us and give several route options, only really listening when the distance of 6.2 miles was mentioned. It seemed a little long but then Ken has his reputation to think of and at least it wasn’t the same 25 miles of the weekend bike hash.

We set off across the common and were treated to fantastic views across the Vale of Oxford in late summer sun. Sharlene, full of beans after she had enjoyed her first hash last week feeling good that she had returned for more, went leaping voluntarily to the front, checking it out down a steep hill.  This was something of a novice’s mistake so early on in a hash of unknown duration and of course, the hash took us onwards and upwards. Where I do not know………….  

As the sunshine faded there was up and down, up and down, woods, fields, woods, fields and a bit of open land in varying order. Note - by way of a survey to see if   anyone reads this ***** –  please greet me on the 1st of September by saying ‘white rabbits!

Arriving at the long – short split, we were greeted by lots of dogs and an owner who seemed to be keen that we should not follow our course. A gate had been shut and, to avoid doubt, the sign ‘Private’ could now be clearly seen. This was only a problem for the long runners, as they now had an extra half mile back down to the road, if they were to complete their run.  Many an individual would have taken the easy (i.e. short) option but the masochistic long runners were not going to miss out and so run off at speed to enjoy the extra leg. A wild guess at location suggests this may have taken the hashers to Dumble Dore, but no wizards were seen and there was no magic carpet home!

Getting back to the track, the long cutters found themselves heading into the woods and uphill. It was only now I noticed that I was only left with hardcore hashers and while we had been out for an hour, those who knew, predicted a long way to go…..  Night fell and we continued to run. Heading uphill seemed to suggest an approaching way inn, but then the route turned downhill (again). Continuing, the hash found what must be the only shiggy still soft and wet in the whole of Bucks (or were we in Oxfordshire by now?) but at least most had learnt from last week that torches are now back in fashion.  Others, of course, chose the option of running blind and into the deepest water.

So it was a definite sense of relief (for some of us anyway, I’m sure Helen was a little disappointed the fun was over) that Gerry finally said he thought it wasn’t much further and he prove right. The pub was a very welcome sight and Ken had shown a glimpse of compassion and reserved us a few chips! Thanks Ken!

And Congratulations to Gerry on 700 hashes – no wonder you recognise footpaths in the dark!

Run No 975
Venue Red Lion@ Knotty Green
Date 11 August 2009
Hare Jane
Hounds 33
Scribe Gerry

Click here for a map of the run

Well, as Ade declined to write this week’s trash I guess it is up to me.  Unfortunately it was a while ago now and a lot of time has passed since then (or do I mean wine has passed?).  Also I had a GPS Problem and lost the route – so I will have to rely on good old-fashioned memory.

It was the first run from the Red Lion at Knotty Green for many a long year.  As we gathered I thought it was going to be quite a small hash, but a last minute serge boosted the numbers considerably. 

As has become traditional, the rules were read out and, for once, there were no surprises – there was a long run (which Jane said was 5.5 miles but I ran at around 7.5) and a short cut of nearly four.  Much bravado was spoken about how real hashers don’t need torches in August (and how wrong they were).

Now there are three small sections of the route that I don’t quite remember – but as these largely coincide with the start, middle and end, the following geography may owe more to a faulty memory than to the actual route.

We started off heading towards Jane’s house (or Jane’s hose as I originally wrote but thank goodness the editor picked it up – especially as she may not have been wearing any at the time).  Just past Riding Lane we re-grouped before turning left into a field, down the steep hill and up the even steeper hill on the other side – with its predictably vicious on-back waiting for us at the top.  So back down the valley and up the other side the first six of us went, before turning around and doing it all over again.

At the top of the next hill there was another regroup – though I am not sure why as there was no “R“ marked there that I could see, and I am even less sure why the pack actually regrouped about 50 feet before the check – making Sam run all the way back before they would move on.

Lude Farm came and went as we headed remorselessly towards the hills of Wycombe Heights golf club.  Aside:  Did you hear about the Spanish golfer who got shot?   It was hole in Juan.

As we reached the golf course I heard Helen offer to show (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) someone her bum – or was it her seat? – if so it might just be possible that she was referring to her office seat which I understand is nearby, but most of us would rather contemplate the other option.  (Ed’s aside:  Helen, if you are offended by this please turn the other cheek.)

A loop back towards Longfield Wood brought us out on a quaint little triangular set of roads – one way back to the pub, the others away from it.  Yes, that’s right, we went the other way!  Most of the triangle later we found a check on the left and headed up a steep and narrow path towards Corkers Wood - then around the back of the Royal Standard towards the On-Inn. During the Civil War, the Royal Standard was used as a mustering place by King Charles I, his personal standard was raised there to draw royalist supporters in fighting for his cause.

Some years later the landlord was rewarded (by Charles II) for giving support to his now executed father and royalist supporters.  Charles II agreed to change the name of the pub from “The Ship” to “The Royal Standard of England”.  Well that’s the official story – but in truth the pub was probably honoured less for this than the fact that Charles II used to meet one of his many mistresses in the rooms upstairs!

Darkness fell as we made our way homewards to the pub.  Whilst changing in the car park Simon arrived back.  Unfortunately he had lost his keys – and somewhat entertainingly told the people in the two cars he had blocked in that he didn’t have a spare set and couldn’t get it towed away until the morning!  Sadly he lied.

A fine run and many thanks for the chips Jane!

Run No 974
Venue The Bounty @ Flackwell Heath
Date 4 August 2009
Hare Moose
Hounds 37 (but Sooper thinks it is "More than three"
Scribe Sooper
Map of run: Click here

Thanks to the wonders of modern technology there's no need for me to worry about having to remember where we went, I can just check my GPS to see a highly detailed plot of the route.

So. We met at the top of West Wycombe Hill at half past five and went.... oh hang on, that can't be right.. how do you work this bloody thing. Sod it, I shall go back to the time honoured method of writing the hash trash and just make it all up.

I arrived at Bourne End Station car park just in time to join in a heated debate about the risks of not forking out the £1.40 required for a ticket. Luckily, the value of my bike is much less than £1.40 (and, now I come to think of it, so is my car) so I was able to park without too much worry.

Our hare was resplendent in his high tech Alpine Marathon running top. Definitely a cut above the usual T-shirts handed out after a run. Ade said it beeping well should be since it cost him sixty quid - I guess he must have bought it on eBay.

Off we set, turning left out of the car park into Bourne End and paraded along The Parade before blindly turning up Blind Lane (this is good - wonder how long I can keep this up for).  Then we took a left and landed in Chalklands (hmm, stretching it a bit already) before er burroughing along Burroughs Road (ok, that didn't work at all) and then we wend over the road into Wendover Road (yay! back on track). Then we crossed the main road into 'The Avenue'... which is just a rubbish name for a road - especially one which isn't even an avenue.  Honestly, you'd have thought that the people who lived in houses like the ones down here could afford a decent road name - one with at least some comedy potential.

Anyway - we regrouped at the bottom of 'The Avenue' (sheesh) before making our way down to the Marina.
I once gave Simon some Morris Marina cufflinks you know - he never wears them hashing - I expect he keeps them for special occasions.

Of course, from the marina, it was pointed out that we could easily see the pub on the other bank and technically we could head straight to it if anyone could be bothered to swim. As it happened, it didn't really matter since we headed back towards the car park, over the bridge and then proceeded to run right past the front of the pub. Ade claimed that this flagrant and indeed fragrant breech of the rule was ok because everyone would have left their money back on the other side of the river. A few hashers wondered as to whether we could get a tab started and sort out the money later but nothing came of it. I mean, if you were running a bar, would you trust Mick?

Next it was along the river pausing only to see Lexi play with the wildlife. Bear V Shark, Monsters V Aliens, Weimaraner V Mad Hissing Swan. It'll be big on You Tube for sure.

We crossed the field (three times for some keen people) pausing only to wave at Rose, and up to the long/short split. The longs turned right up the hill whilst the shorts pootled off left at ground level (yes, yes I know). At the top of the hill we looped round and regrouped at a flying ants nest which Ade had thoughtfully marked with a circle of flour. We didn't find out it was a flying ants nest until Kerry had been standing on it for a couple of minutes and started hovering.

At this point it was noted that Phil had forgotten his running shoes and hashing in his normal footwear. Next week he's going to be doing Fastnet in his pyjamas.

Anyway, onward and upward, I think Ade was still in Alpine mode, and on to the John Lewis golf course. It's just like a normal course really but more tasteful, oh, and never knowing underholed.

Ahem.

Then it was a fair way along the top of the golf course to the car park on Terry's Lane, down the hill and back along the bottom of the course. A quick right down to the river and good run took us back in to the bridge.

Once we'd gone back north of the river to get changed it was back to the pub in time for chips (hurrah). There were some speeches from the GM, but frankly I wasn't really paying attention so you'll have to ask him what they were about. All in all, another fine traditional Bounty run from the man called Moose.

 

Run No 973
Venue The Ship @ Marlow
Date 28July 2009
Hare Sooper
Hounds 34
Scribe Gerry
Map of run: Click here

It's comforting to know that there are things you can rely on in hashing as there are in life. We know, for instance that the GM will put a huge number of on-backs on his runs, that Simon's hashes will be up and down steep hills, that Matt and Roz will always win prizes at fancy-dress runs and that Sooper's runs will be measured to inch-perfect accuracy on his GPS.

So it was that this run was pre-measured on his reconnaissance trips to the merest fraction of an inch, at just under 5.5 miles. It was reassuringly hash-like to hear that, when he set it, it had somehow changed to the 5.9 miles he announced to the hash, to the “Just over six” he whispered to a few hashers and even to the “It's over six and a half” he confessed to Whipping Boy. Accuracy indeed. On the actual run he measured it as 5.86 miles with no on-backs. Actually it was 5.91 miles with many, many on-backs and checks. Was this his first measure of success for the evening?

A goodly crowd gathered in the car park and we set off on the stroke of six minutes late, running south towards the river. The first check, a hundred or so yards out, saw the long-short split - and from that point on we didn't see the short cutters again. Fortunately Lesley told me all of the many things that happened to them when we were in the pub later. And to be doubly sure I wrote them all down as soon as I got home.

Now, a week later as I write this, (I was away), I find that my “comprehensive” notes on the Blonde's detailed tale, consists of the mysterious phrase “The short new hashers were two false” (and yes word “two” was spelt that way and I am sure it meant something at the time relating to two separate events). But if she was also referring to the fact that the hashers were on the short trail or that she was being rude about their height totally escapes me. But, rest assured, the short run was both detailed and interesting when she told me.

And so on to the multiple lengths of the long run. We had been told that the first section of the hash was very flat so may well be furiously fast - and so it was through Higginson park (named after General Sir George Higginson, Marlow's famous centenarian who handed the deeds of Court House to the council sometime after his 100th birthday). Fast also along the river and whilst doubling back towards the park and even faster when we re-doubled in a sneaky fashion back again towards the river.

By the time of the first regroup the pace had been quick enough to bring a delicate rosy glow to the cheeks of the lady hashers. The gentlemen, as men are want to do, were sweating like pigs and gasping for oxygen.

Eventually we arrived back at the Marlow-Henley road after a particularly fine on-back (which caught loads of people but I just sadly just missed out on). A right towards Marlow followed by a left and we were heading north towards Bovingdon Green, (best known 'cos of Mike and Judy memorably missing a hash by turning up at a pub called the Royal Oak in the Bovingdon Green north of Amersham, rather than the Royal Oak at the Bovingdon Green near Marlow which, as everyone knew, was the venue for the hash).

A left into a field took us to the steepest hill of the evening – where the vicious on-back at the top made Helen's eyes light up at the prospect of an extra climb. However, soon after returning to the bottom and climbing back up, she got caught by yet another on-back and had to descend and ascend the monster for a third time! Judging by the age it took her to catch up I am not sure that she enjoyed this quite as much as the first two times. So perhaps she now knows, as does half of the hash, what it is like to be “over the hill.”

A pleasantly torturous route seemed to take us on two half loops in the wrong direction but eventually we headed back (downhill for a change) towards the allotments at the top of Marlow, where I heard one hasher ask, “What do you call a stolen yam?” Answer - A hot potato!

And so back to Marlow which, according to the Doomsday book was the “Land Of Queen Maud In Desborough Hundred” and consisted of fifteen hides with 26 curucates in the demesne, two ploughs, 35 villeins, twenty three copy-holders, twenty six curucates of pasture and pannage for 1,000 hogs". Unfortunately that probably won't make you much wiser. Better informed perhaps but, like me, not any wiser.

Yet another fine hash and convivial evening in Sooper's ever-on-going Marlow hash series.

Run No 972
Venue The Palmer Arms @ Booker
Date 21July 2009
Hare Gerry as a fat balding and aged SuperHero
Hounds Awaiting
Scribe The GM
Map of run: Click here

Click here for the photos

Click here for Mike's award winning poem

That well known hostelry known as The Palmer Arms already set in the dank drizzle of a summer time Tuesday in the Chilterns,- awaited the flurry of Super Hero’s to arrive.

One by one they emerged out of their various forms of transport, scurried across the road and paraded around the back of the Inn to show off their finery.

The Galloping Granny, or was it Old Mother Hubbard? or maybe it was the Witch in Snow White?... led the way.

Soon Tom Watson, the 50 year old Barbie, 200 odd versions of Superman, The Cadbury’s milk Tray Man resplendent in his now ill fitting but elegant evening dress suit, American Hero, Rambo, at least 2 Jokers, 2 Lara Crofts (Who?), Buzz Light-year, Captain America, Cat Woman, The female version of The Gladiator, (Zena? - you know, her the one with the big chopper!), 2 Batmen, Robin, Adolf Hitler, The Pope, Barrack Obama, Gandhi, Attila the Hun, Mother Theresa, Max Wall, Django Reinhardt, Butch Cassidy, Glen Miller, Bambi, Roy Rogers, the Teletubbies, the entire cast from Ben Hur, Pontius Pilate and last but not least, the Super Chef herself Delia Smith, emerged from the kitchen and………… everyone awaited the Creator of Mankind.

All stood in reverence and in hushed expectancy for the most famous Super Hero of all. The air of expectancy was obvious, you could actually FEEL the tension rising, in fact you could cut it with a knife. The Hare was chomping at the bit waiting to brief the assembly of world Statesmen and Super heroes. Then……………. out of the gathering gloom the unmistakable fall of feet once washed by the Lake of Galilee was heard, the assembly stood to attention and respectfully observed a hushed whisper.

Now the tension was unbearable, …..And then finally and to everyone’s relief, the Super hero to dominate and all Super Hero’s arrived. …………….By now everyone was kneeling on the floor to pay homage to him. Noses were pressed in reverence into the carpet. Slowly we lifted our eyes and there in front of the shining light that followed him and underneath the halo that sat on his head, we beheld the unmistakable icon of mankind. Was it really him? Was his living image a trick of the fast fading light? Could he really have deigned to grace our presence?  

The fanfare, the pageantry, the significance of the occasion overwhelmed us. Moon landings, The Ascension, ‘D’ Day Landings, the death of Michael Jackson… all of them paled into insignificance. There in front of our eyes we beheld, (and here the writer’s fingers tremble over the keyboard before revealing the omnipotence of our Lord and Master)……Simon Cope!  Yes indeed, the man himself there before us. We wondered if we could actually touch him, we wondered at the impact that his first words would have on humanity and how they might alter our plans for the coming weekend. Would he bless us? Would he utter some immortal words of eternal significance for us to relate to our grand children?  ‘Simon Cope’, say it again, slowly this time and let the syllables dwell on your lips. ‘Simon Cope’. Ah Simon, - how well you coped!

The very name ‘Simon’ should be etched in stone and the stone tablet laid in Westminster Abbey .What an outstanding effort to dress for the significance of the evening. - What a Hasher!

Drizzle, woods, slippery paths, handcuffs, Krypton’s, Mick still dispensing his Milk Tray contents, the sucking of Chocolate Willy’s with expression and gusto, Jo’s discomfort at her cape chafing, the GM practicing his golf swing for The Open, Tracey sweating in her costume, Gerry cursing his hot head under his toupee, Ken doing his Blind Pew act under his mask, Matt, (aka Rambo), shooting rabbits, Dashwood Dick with his rapid change act in the woods, Zena chopping down trees, new boy Philip’s ignorance in how to spell the most famous ice cream in the world, Roger’s brilliant T shirt for Scooper’s 250th run, Gerry’s generosity in the quality and quantity of booze, prizes and hospitality, Rose’s magnificent 3 course spread all helped to make this a most memorable evening.

Oh, and there was a run as well, complete with forfeits and rude chocolates, not to mention a race around an extra loop for the speedier of the Long Cutters.  Matt made an incredible time around with a wild charge that left even Lara/Helen in the dust beneath his feet.
Pity about Whipping Boy though!

Run No 971
Venue Rising Sun @ Little Hampden
Date14 July 2009
Hare GM
Hounds Awaiting
Scribe The Blonde
Map of run: Click here

This week’s offering began with a game of ‘tetris’ as parking spaces were limited, each coloured arrival was duly ushered into the most available space. Only Ade with the ‘little tiddler’ seemed to have trouble lining it up! The pub is set in a picture post card location which is no wonder Matt chose here to set his first run. It is also ‘residential’ a blow well below the belt to hashers as the bar closed at 10!!!!!!!!!

The ‘Rising Sun’ 4.02am and ‘Setting Sun’ 20.24pm was making life difficult for the GM  as he now needed to force the pace or send the runners home beer-less (un thinkable).  A new virgin hasher called Phillip was scooped into the pack and off we descended into the woods. The pace was relaxed so I was able to catch up with Helen and admire her tan. Chris who was also on the same holiday didn’t have the bronzed sheen but he insisted that his lasted for 6 months….  where did he dream that one up?
In the woods the entire pack was cunningly fooled by not 1 but 2 false trails.

The gradient suddenly turned nasty but it was the only hill of an otherwise flatish run (Ed's aside: Flatish? !*!!*! ) and the view was worth the effort.  A road at the top took us past the 12 century Dunsmore church  through Hampdenleaf Wood and finally to a re-group at a crossroads and again a little further on where the South Bucks way joins. This is the point where the GM sent both the ‘longs’ and ‘shorts’ down one side of the fence and back up the other side as he needed a few minutes break away to add in the long loop in the form of a ‘live’ hash. My part in the deceit was to steward (Ed’s aside: I wonder if the Blonde enjoyed “Stewing”?).

I believe the chase through Cockshoots wood sent the runners back by a couple of 5 backs (Ed’s aside, a couple must have been re-defined without telling us as in now means “Over five plus a regroup”) leaving the hare with an empty blobber but ahead of the game.  The shorts on the other hand despite 700 million runs between them missed their check. Mad Mike in the sexy green shorts and Aud were guilty of following the arrows against them all the way back to the pub. The GM reckons they ran a quarter distance longer than the longs! Thank you Jane and Steve for helping Cassie in her hour of need as she had to limp back on 3 legs. Despite all manner of investigation we could not work out what had caused her paw to be so painful. To see our FRB canine struggle just didn’t seem right.

Back at the pub the publican did a splendid job of pouring the pints in record time. A record too for Dan who was awarded his “T” for 50 runs. Good to see Mark (B) and Peter (C) back in the fold along with the chips and chocolate to celebrate Aud’s birthday. Thanks to benchbreaker for a picture post card run to match the setting.

Ed's Aside: last time Rose was at the pub she met a huge foreign articulated lorry winding slowly up the tiny winding road to the pub. He stopped, leant out of the window from on-high, checked his GPS and asked if "Iis really the way to Littlehampton?"

 

Run No 970
Venue Jolly Woodsman @ Littlemore
Date 7 July 2009
Hare The Blonde
Hounds 37
Scribe Gerry
Map of run: Click here

Lesley's 50th Birthday Run

Dark clouds gathered and rain fell ominously as we foregathered in the Jolly Woodsman’s car park - which seemed as if had been hand-carved out from the dank, stygian forest that spread around us.  Slowly people left their cars and gathered in huddled masses under dripping trees. 

The weekly hash ritual was about to begin and as if some dark sorcerers had weaved her spell, the rain slowly eased on this the seventh day of the seventh month of our 970th run.

Talk of the new Harry Potter film, which was being premiered at that exact time in that exact same rainstorm, declined as we welcomed two virgin Hashers, Mike and Rob, into our midst and the rules of engagement were announced.   “There is only be one run and you must regroup at the regroups as I have a little something to say at one of them.”  She went on to tell us that, in honour of her reaching her half century birthday, all of the on-backs would be 5s.

And so we were off, heading south-south-west and with the rain easing still more, (within a mile and a half it had totally stopped).   A right turn and we crossed over common lane heading towards Burnham Common.

A few on-backs later with Sam (as always) doing pretty much all of them.  Mile one came and went in the Beeches, as did mile two - just after which the cry of “Regroup by the road” got to Jo, who promptly changed it to “Regroup in the road.”  This small but subtle difference causing a quick giggle from those surrounding her and a flurry of extra shouts from her trying to use her intelligence and quickness of mind to retrieve her slip by saying, and I quote “No, err.. what.”

At the road we regrouped, as directed, in the road until a car came along, whereby Graham shooed everyone onto the verge and stood in the road grinning vacantly until he realised that he also should beat a hasty retreat.   Perhaps he had taken the road’s name (Park lane) too literally.

A big loop took us back to within view of the pub and many people claimed that, as they could see the pub they could go “on-inn.”  However by the diabolical trick of not marking the crossroads as a check, the hare forced us into going on.
Although the map on the website shows that we were already into mile four, Phil cheerfully told everyone that  the path we were on had no shortcuts and it was a solid 2.5 miles back to the pub.  Thoughts of suicide were mentioned and one sturdy hasher loudly bemoaned both the lack of a short run and the fact that he hadn’t gone back to the pub when he had seen it.

A regroup later and the Hare took us off-path across the private farmland of a friend of hers.  The GM announced that the farm was a shooting farm with some 20,000 ducks which apparently line up for slaughter for a mere £7,000 a day.  A minor disagreement over the route between the Blonde and the GM led to the pack missing what the Blonde averred was the main reason for the run – a good view of the ducks.  Nonetheless, we still managed a reasonable view (and if their stench was anything to go by perhaps it was a good thing that we didn’t get too much closer).

As I hadn’t overheard any salacious fouxpas on the run so far, I asked Jo for one of the instant foot-in-mouth quotes.  However, instead she came up with the idea of running a competition to produce the best limerick that rhymed with duck - upon which we ran the length of the field producing a surprising number of variations – all of which were unexpectedly polite, if not in the best of taste – especially the one a little later about breaking a ducks leg as good “luck”.  If there are any suitable entries (email them to Gerry) and a prize will be awarded at the Super Heroes fancy dress hash.

A few turns later and we were led through a farm and into a type of conservatory for a fruity punch and nibbles stop to celebrate Lesley’s fifty years.  David sang a song he had written which seemed to be about the pain Lesley likes inflicting, particularly on Barney’s thighs.  Two brighter than average hashers also managed to get themselves covered in soot by leaning on what turned out to be a BBQ chimney.  I won’t name them but I got the soot off myself me eventually.

Some while later we moseyed on back pub-wards where a devilish on-back - after the on-in! - was promptly ignored by the first ten hashers, so Sam and I went back to try to cover for them.

Back in the pub, as soon as Dick walked in Jo quickly flashed a boob at him followed by loads of sweets, cookies and brownies from Barney and Jane.  This (the food not the boob) were much to the displeasure of the somewhat grumpy landlady, but to the evident pleasure of Munching Mike our Greedy Glutton. 

Having been put in somewhat of a bad mood by the landlady the GM didn’t make his usual speech and the presentation he was to make will now be made next week.