No matter how you may choose to try and avoid it, writing the hash report, like death and taxes eventually
comes to all who choose to run on a tuesday night. Phil Crookes thought he had avoided it by missing the
run after his hash but then when I missed the run after my hash, Gerry The Trash Reaper was there to put
Phil straight. So it was no surprise on Tuesday as I parked opposite the Crown and climbed from my car to
see Gerry approaching with unreasonable haste, smiling a smile that you only see from someone who really
enjoys his lot and informing me that yes indeed it was my turn to do the write up. Unable to offer any sensible
reason why I should not be this weeks scribe, I conceded gracefully and so here I sit wrestling with writers
block. What to say?
Well actually the hash preamble from Mark (this weeks hare) deserves a mention, it was quite confusing
even to me, with talk of Marmite and Walls and H's. Heaven knows what the several hash virgins made of it.
The Hash seems to have been blessed by an influx of newcomers lately and keeping track of their names
is beyond my current memory capacity. It's good to see but unfortunate that they all appear to be twice as fast
as me (not difficult).
With on-on called off we went into the sports ground behind the pub and across the fields beyond, brisk as you like. Now runs from the Crown invariably end up in the bowels of Kings wood and I wondered if that would be
our fate this time, but our westerly direction ( yes I'm looking at the map) seemed to be at odds with this. As we
continued tracking west then crossed the road to Four Ashes the reality began to dawn on me. We were going
down the hill into Hughenden valley!
Church Lane is a long fast downhill, no longer a lane, now just a bridleway, but it was only a friendly hint
from Helen ( who I suspect had quite a lot to do with the setting of this hash) that stopped me from charging
right to the bottom. Unfortunately because I stopped ,the rest of the hash became aware of the hidden path to
the right and stubbornly refused to descend further. So I'm not expecting any more friendly route tips from Helen in the near future.
The next mile section around the edge of a field and into an uphill single track was one of considerable
attrition. A scream ripped the night air as Super Cooper moosed behind me. It was an 8. Then a minute
later, Helen who was just in front of me scored a 7 as her foot went down a rabbit hole, not so much Alice in
Wonderland as Helen in Blunderland (well I liked it). Then Moose who was busy doing what he does best
(no not running, chatting!) head butted a tree and almost knocked himself senseless , an act which saw Roger
present him with hard hat back at the pub. How did they know to bring that hat, is somebody psychic or what? Ed's aside, it is rumoured that Pocket also came a cropper on the same stretch and he was certainly looking pained as he hobbled in to the regroup. Anyway they don't call it Cryers hill for nothing and the combination of blood sweat and tears brought us
gasping to the top.
A gentle jog from one end of Cryers Hill Lane to the other took us past the Royal Standard pub and into the
fields and woods between Grange farm and Widmer farm.
It was here that Mark instigated something called The Marmite On Back . I don't think anyone, including
Mark had any idea what it was about. Marmite or no Marmite I abstained.
Next he made everyone circumnavigate a kiddie playground including beam balancing, climbing across swings and descending slides. I abstained.
He swiftly followed this by encouraging everyone to scramble over a 6ft high obstacle wall . Some skin
and more blood & tears were shed. I abstained and jogged back to the pub where we were treated to
chip butties, beer and pretty much friendly conversation. Mike and Judy were presented with 250 runs T shirts
(surely they've done more runs than that?) and as previously mentioned Ade was given a building site hard hat
to prevent further concussions. Does anyone know who had the foresight to bring this hat along, as it really worries me? Less worrying were Marks attempts to get everyone doing silly things. Let's face it running in the dark in muddy woods on a tuesday night is silly enough!