Just back from a sales trip to der awld country – dats roight Hoirland- where me black top business is as flat as yesterdays porter, me real imitation plastic lucky heather ain’t shiftin and peg sales are real slow as dere all skint due to dere bein nuttin in der Hoirish banks but empty Guinness bottles.
Time to join up wid me old hashin mates den, so I moseys down to West Wickam where, wid aboit tree minutes ter go dere was only a couple of brasso lookin types in sight, as it was roight parky, when sudden like another couple ‘o dozen appears. I wish me customers could do the same !!
Big Kev gets us goin, sayin there’s only two hills. Some wag whispers “yeah, der first half and der
Second half” and den we gets a goin out onter der road and den sharp left up der first of der too hills.
Now den, der big hill in front of us looks der size of Croagh Patrick wid a fancy graveyard on der top, but I can’t see any of der boys runnin up it wid no shoes loik yer sposed to. Anyway, wid much relief, we don’t go up der mountain but go roight onter a mud heap of a path. It was roightly pointed out dat it was still all up anyhow, bein a sneaky way of Kev & Kez getting us knackered anyhoo.
Half way up, along comes Matt, Roz and Der Moose who had been as late as der payments on me leather look sofa but, who bein that nasty word “fit” had caught us up on the slopes of C.P.
We goes inter der woods, Hearton Woods I tink, were der leaves is as tick on der ground as dem whose keep sayin dat big awld barge Widdicombe is any good at dancin. A long pull tro der woods eventually leads to one of dem check tings where we head left and up part two of the first hill wid Helles tryin ter get me and Barney up it wid a helpin push and some a roight good earful o’ verbals.
At der top, we heads off roight along tro der woods to arroive at Noble’s Farm where I does a handy leaflet drop as we regroup. Now den, Big Kev calls a long short split and us saner types, led by that foin colleen Kerry, heads down a wicked slope, which was as slippery as the Hoirish Finance Minister, to the Risboro road. I tink der longs wooder gone down terwards Bottom Farm and looped round troo Allnutt’s Wood, but ter be sure, I ain’t sure.
We crosses der road and gazes at der Red Lion, but Kez don’t let us go in fer a quick drop o’ the black stuff and, anyhoo, nobody’s holdin foldin so, wid our tongues hangin oot we goes up round der backer Bradenham and off roight up der second hill into Pimlock’s Wood.
Now den, it was at some point in dees here woods, at a well earned regroup, where der GM, dat roight good but gobby feller David, launches inter one aboot der Pope and condoms. Don’t quite know where it was a comin from but it was roight entertainin anyhow.
An udder long short split took place wid der longs disappearin I know not where to and us less mentally challenged hashers goin straight on troo Kit’s Wood on a track which Ken kept assuring us was “all downhill from here”. Eventually it started to go downhill !!
At der bottom, we shot across der railway line just in time to miss der train. Runin down to der road, we declines the muddy track up hill tree opposite, instead optin fer a lash along der Risboro road to a track across der park which leads us back to der village and on inn.
In der pub we get ter der main business o’ der evenin – dats roight, chips, which were as tin as me black top business dis month, and two lots of roight nice cake as it was both Matt & Der Moose’s birthdays. All washed down wid a couple of pints o’ der happy mixture, what could be better.
Tanks ter Big Kev & Kezza fer a roight good nite. Now den, anyone want any cheap pegs !!