Definitely a soggy hash following last week’s warm and dry one.
So, after a wet afternoon with a stormy evening forecast, those who came along to brave the weather were firstly informed that the checks may have been washed away. For the longs it was a possibly going to be a guessing game with a map – the shorts, however, were to have the hares with us, so we would not get lost …
All was well, we commenced the hash along the road, and then off down towards Nanfan Wood, where the rain lashed down again. Then down a steep hill and across Hampden Road and towards Denner Farm.
At the long/short split our hare began the evening’s entertainment with a recital of the poem denoted by the three P’s (PPP)
No, not what you might think…
NOT the apt and topical Purchasing Power Parity and the exchange rate fluctuation, down to BoJo and his BREXIT negotiations.
NOR the AXA Private Pension Plan – why on earth would we need that with the wonderful NHS
OR the one about the three hashers who got caught short …
But it was of course, The Prayer for Perished Pants, (please see the hare for a printed copy). The relevance of the poem I am not sure of (think I was talking in class at the start), but we certainly wouldn’t want to lose our pants on a night like this. The hashers were hushed and the recital commenced, midway through, a number had lost the will to live and the we were encouraged to speak over again! The moral I believe – don’t wear pants, then they can’t come down if they perish.
We then proceeded up a never ending, narrow, fern edged footpath that went up and up, got narrower and narrower, and then crevices developed underfoot. Just when we thought we were to be swallowed up in a ferny lined grave we finally reached the clearing at the top – still I don’t think anyone lost their pants, and we prayed that no-one had perished.
Thereafter, we encountered, some frisky horses and pleasant woods and more open footpaths. We once again crossed Hampden Road and saw the remote thatched cottage, someone commented they must never turn their lights off, having woods combined with the overhanging thatch. The normal banter continued, plus we were still not lost, and we all had our pants.
We thought the end was in sight, but there were several moments when I overheard the hares discussing whether we were still going the right way, a couple of extra detours and we must have been, as at 3.7 miles it was ON INN to the pub and they welcomed us with a dry (not literally) bar and chips, sausage rolls and cocktail sausages and the usual jollities of the evening rolled on……. to my knowledge, nobody got lost, or lost their pants.