The windscreen wipers set a steady beat as I reached the Peacock cross roads on the way to the Chequers at Fingest. I turned right and plunged down the hill towards the Hambleden valley, aware that here I once had the misfortune to trade wing mirrors with an upcoming van.
Predictably there was plenty of mud in the car park with the overflow field closed, deemed impassable. There was only one small place remaining into which I managed to shoehorn the Zafira and eventually extricate myself from the driving seat.
Hashers gathered in the gloom under guidance from our hare for the evening, Klingon. (Who gave him that name anyway? Could it be somebody blessed with the skills of a clairvoyant who could see into the Rob’s future earning him his hash name this very night with copious mud klinging on to every hasher during the evenings run?)
A brief pre-hash chat from Rob and we were off. As I am now reduced in the ranks to walking due to my faulty knee Rob gave me the nod to go down the road past the church, leaving the mob still chatting outside the pub. Eventually they all ran past me as we climbed the hill up into the wood. There a regroup brought us all back together, or was it a check that nobody could be a- -ed with? Anyway the
throng soon girded their loins, as throngs do, and set off down the trail (or should it be up ).
Up it was, followed by a steep and slippery downhill. Here my ballet shoes (thanks for that Mick) let me down and I found myself slipping uncontrollably, arms and legs akimbo, crashing into the gate at the edge of the wood. Fortunately
nobody else saw this as they had all long since disappeared down the field.
I managed to catch up at the long – short split, where Rob disowned all responsibility for the long run and handed Roger a map. The shorts who no longer had to pretend to the longs that they were keen to run, walked all of the remaining trail , which suited me fine.
After a very long steep climb up though the wood we eventually emerged at the Ibstone windmill or more correctly Cobstone windmill famed for appearing in the film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for which it was restored, using parts from the mill at Lacey Green and later the home of Hayley Mills the actress.. Enough of this padding and back to the tale, sorry trail.
Helles Belles, usually an F.R.B. was for once walking, having injured her shoulder. She said that the Doc had told her she should avoid any strenuous exercise for three to four weeks and then it would be ok for her to go ski-ing , presumably so that she could then injure it again?
Helen and Jo were for the most part walking within earshot of me, chatting away and pretty much covered all the main topics known to womankind including the birth of a baby of a friend, in graphic detail. It was at this point that I sprinted away, painfull knee or not.
Back at the pub at last we were surprised at the arrival of the longs a few minutes later. It seems that they had incorrectly read Robs map and had in fact short-cutted his intended route of 5.5 mls by more than a mile.. All the usual pleasantries were observed and enjoyed especially the chips which were many but soon devoured.
A good run Rob but I stiil think the name Klingon is unjustified.