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Clevedon Boxing Day Road Race, 2012.

WHEN:
Er, Boxing Day.
WHERE: Clevedon Seafront.
WHO: Clevedon Athletic Club and festive frolics with about 600 civvies PLUS: Rewind and 2 sons (Insert and Eject? Pause and Stop?) Happy Hooker, Pushup, Cinders, Kerb Crawler Walkie Talkie, DT, Walrus, Call Girl and Aaron.
  • Surprise of the day came ten minutes before start time, Rebore dropping his trousers, then revealing a chest covered in a running bib!
  • Limpet, Fair Weather and Fast Forward stood firm, covered in everyone’s unnecessary clothing, whilst Fondle fish-hooked on the M5
  • Jetting off in an easterly direction, hashers dispersed amongst the crowd. Call Girl, KC and Walkie Talkie took up a tail position whilst the FRBs fought it out at the front.
  • The going was mild and dry, crowds roared and cheered as we passed, all was going well on easy street through the town on the flat until Holly Lane...
  • The climb was steady but long, Hashers showed their mettle and dug deep, singing to the music and reaching the top, coasting down the other side along the seafront to the finish line.
  • Walrus raced Aaron and lost; Aaron won, but lost his breakfast.
  • KC and Call Girl ran chummy until the last 50 yards and then went serious, racing for the tape and going all red in the face.
  • Walkie Talkie and Pushup came in laughing and smiling whilst Rebore declared his training for the 2013 race will start immediately.
Now that the racing season is over, we can all look forward to proper hashing next week! - Call Girl.

Run 341, 19th December 2012.
WHERE:
Gordano Gate, Portishead.
HARE: Rocky Horror.
WHO: 19 or so hound-less hashers, 1 latecomer and 2 visitors.
RUN REPORT: Last ever hash if you're a Mayan - what better way to sign off then with a splash and dash through the Portishead mud, particularly with a beer stop brilliancy thrown in. Our diligent lone hare warned us of many a turnback and marshland to negotiate, and yet most of us fell at the first hurdle - i.e. short-cutting out of the car park for an On Out. After the first of several fresh deluges had been negotiated, the runners branched off to circumnavigate Homebase and McDonalds without stopping for supper, sparking fears of a mix up of routes from two weeks ago that did not come to pass. The real test of our wits came after everyone had regrouped at Newfoundland Way - all rested assured that the way on lay to our right along a riverbank, but lo and behold a turnback for runners beckoned – instead they sped on and underneath the physics-defying statue outside Bottelinos, savouring the sights if not scents of Italian cuisine all the while, and then making semi-haste along the marina and the locks to the sweet stop. An arrow pointing into the marina had been ignored, a life-like statue of Rewind anything but ignored, and a sweet stop with Celebrations chocolates and palate-clearing grapes seemed just the thing to savour. Happy Hooker whipped out the camera for it too and as always did a great job of ignoring Joe Public behind him, and almost straight after the restart we basked in an even nicer view stretching out to Severn bridges old and not-quite-so-new. The terrain promptly returned to shiggy as we paid another visit to the “fingers” of run 290 (also in the dark) and kept the front 3 in tow with a fish hook. However, it was then a case of can’t visits rather than can visits – first absentee Flour Power’s pristine abode was left undisturbed, then a runners’ route was abandoned on account of being turned from swamp into sea. While wending our way through the imminent suburban maze the back runners got a taste of Santa using horsepower rather than reindeer power – you live and learn. The best lesson of course came at our next regroup – when there is a fish hook for 4 among a thinned out pack, just play the waiting game and you’ll be fine, particularly if Rocky rewards you with beer stops like this one. After huddling into Rocky’s garage in an effort to make the rain stop, the inevitable stock of mulled wine, mince pies, Stollen and fresh fruit quickly disappeared in tandem with an appearing Dungeon Dragons, no doubt out to claim his treasure horde of grub. Rocky assured us that there was now only 3 miles to go – that seemed so easy that we even decided to do some disco dancing before resuming. Near On In time came the dangerous potential of a cross-over with the Albion run (markings still intact apparently) as we thundered across a bridge and onto Brampton Way. Preparation reigned supreme though – the tantalising sight of the red-lit Gordano Gate appeared to our right, and after struggling for about a minute to find a bridge we touched down ever so slightly after 9pm. Oh, so easy to please everybody…
CIRCLE: Just a quicky in the surprisingly warm car park, but sufficiently long to remind all but 4 of us not to shortcut the On Out in future. The trail was also deemed to have not enough water; ah, you’re all wet!
ON ON ON: Nice and cosy indoors and joined by Coppertone and Backchat, plenty of chips appeared as did sandwiches with cheese and ham as good as the Parma variety. All in all, a great final feed for 2012 for us hungry horses. Time for me to eat my humble turkey.
Run 340, December 12th 2012.
WHERE:
Campbells Landing, Clevedon.
HARES: Walrus and Callgirl.
WHO: 11 or so hashers and 3 hash hounds.
RUN REPORT: The hashers and hounds braved the arctic conditions on this significant date 12/12/12, reputedly not to be repeated for 89 years, for the hash from the reopened Campbells Landing. Meeting on Clevedon sea front no one fancied a dip in the icy water, so it was ON ON towards the red light district of Hill Road. Up around the Zig Zag and back to Wellington Terrace. Push up decided to push off with torch failure and the gritters were out in force. Rocky lost his footing and took a tumble along the coast path but with much attention from fellow hashers was bravely soon back up and running with only minor blood injuries. The illuminated Lions Club Father Christmas float encountered on Castle Road added to the Christmas feel then it was up over the golf course. A sweety treaty stop produced festive chocolate. The walkers then headed back whilst the runners battled through woodland.
CIRCLE: Campbells Landing produced a great spread of sandwiches and chips and the circle was held in the pub due to the sub zero conditions. Rocky took centre stage for falling over on the hash.
Alternative Trash by Pushup:
Question:
what is significant about today's date?
We had two hounds, several hashers and the hares were Call Girl and Walrus.
Weather: beautiful crisp winter's evening, dry and frosty. We gathered at the Beach near the Pier in Clevedon with the aim of adjourning to Campbell's Landing afterwards. We ended up with two scribes, and decided between us to write two trashes, as they would turn out very differently and add interest. We jogged and hashed up Alexandra Road, and on on up to Hill Road, on up the Zig-Zag and back half way down again, and along a dark dark path. We came out to the entrance to the coast path that leads to Ladye Bay. At that point my headtorch battery gave up completely and DT very nobly suggested that I kept up with him and shared his light. I/Pushup was nervous about tripping and headbanging along the coast path, so apologised and turned back. It was a lovely hash, and I am sure continued to be lovely, with dark frosty views of the Severn and the twinkling lights of South Wales beyond. I am also sure that Campbell's provided a sumptuous repast of delicious sandwiches and hot tasty chips for afters.

Run 339, December 5th 2012.
WHERE:
The Albion, Portishead.
HARES: Inchworm and Cinderella, I think!
WHO: 11 hashers and 0 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Many more turned up for the Xmas and anniversary dinner than for our quick warmup run in the cold; clearly then our drinking problem is as serious as ever. A slightly under the weather Inchworm gave us a briefing before retiring, then off we set in search of the far distant Newfoundland Road. First of all there was a T1 which sent us down a blind alley which even a night owl would miss, likewise the correct way through a playground (again missing a zip wire) as we headed onto Brampton Way. Thankfully though nobody needed the power of sight to sense the ever jingling bells of Rebore, who seemed to be flying around Portishead easily enough even without Rudolph and co. In fact he even found the time to follow up a trail through the marina catacombs with a visit to Waitrose with Limpet - contempt for a short trail or was there some milk and mince pies left out for him? Well, the runners were too busy steaming along the promised land of Newfoundland Way to notice, so instead the fellow walkers kept tabs on him. For me the highlight had to be walking deliberately at snail pace past Rickshaw in the High Street - no doubt during the rush hour for oriental cuisine. Seemingly having completed an Atlantic crossing, the runners reappeared just as the end of the amble along the High Street to The Albion beckoned. No matter how short or long, you can always count on us bogs’ sense of timing.
CIRCLE: Prioritising one-sided shapes over Christmas cuisine? You must be crackers...
ON ON ON/HO HO HO: Many specially returning faces for our anniversary dinner spliced with party hats and crackers. Plenty of chances to return to Movember, too, thanks to the cracker contents. All in all, another great year of putting one foot in front of the other.
Run 338, December 1st 2012.
WHERE:
The Old Barn, Wraxall.
HARE: Brigadoon in his kilt.
WHO: 9 hashers, 1 hound and 1 latecomer who didn't leave an R/L symbol.
RUN REPORT: How careless and heinous of me. For our third special tartan hash only Brigadoon, Walrus and Rocky Horror came in the appropriate garb, with the remainder dressing instead in accordance with the cold elements. The absence of our GM immediately showed as the warmup came down to a free for all, the most popular being knees, shoulders, toes and head. Nonetheless we still had enough brain and brawn to put one foot in front of the other, so out we onned. Much to Briggy's dismay, for the second time running nobody fell into the river out the back of the Barn, and nor did anybody get quite submerged in the uphill shiggy after a couple of fields – perhaps the decision by Limpet to skirt it had something to do with that. Sole hound Mudlark appeared in a real fighting mood, squaring up to virtually every canine we encountered even as we ventured onto pastures new via Green Pastures Road. After leaving the duck feeding to some youngsters we then began to cackle a bit ourselves – at an imminent crossroads the lonely FRBs swore they had located 3 blobs in two directions?!?! Obviously Brigadoon could never mean such harm; nonetheless Walrus and Rocky Horror were so flabbergasted that they nearly set off a speed warning as we relocated tarmac and began to trundle down Trendlewood Way. One of several impromptu arrows here helped to apply the FRBs brakes, particularly as it was down a back alley with no room to pass. Some may have thought the distant screams were those of the expectedly AWOL Rebore, but instead they came from those who would rather play rugby than watch it. We were in for a bit of a scrum down ourselves – at this point the vegetation to our left opened wide and swallowed us whole, only spitting us out after we had negotiated a dare 'n' do next to a stream and several submerged checkpoints. And what a frustrating sight it was too – as punishment for leaving the duck-feeding duty to youngsters, our reserved zip wire (it even had an “R” next to it; what more do you want?!) had been taken over by those whom it was intended for. Even Mudlark felt justified in taking out the aggression on another hound, thankfully a placid one. The pack thinned out a little as we passed the back of Nailsea School, thus the FRBs were sent down a subway to afford a little breathing space to back runners Fondue and Call Girl. Still not enough, though, as things transpired. The runners ducked and dived their way through the High Street shoppers (presumably for Christmas 2013) and waited too long at the next regroup for their liking so on they dashed. By now Eager Beaver had also deemed himself a back-walker and it was decided, more by fate than virtue, that he, Call Girl, Fondue and Mudlark would invent their own On In, capped by a Christmas tree with baubles the size of a hound's head. At this point the runners were running out of Duracell power, though she still amicably took up the necessary co-haring to finish off while Brigadoon commuted. That, my friends, is how easy it is to make a 93 minute hash seem like double.
CIRCLE: Coffee liced with brandy – a beverage for which the phrase “winter warmer” was invented. Likewise the short-cutters and the phrase “down down” and Call Girl's apt christening of this as “Omnishambles”, aimed particularly at Misapp, Duracell and the miraculously appearing Rebore who missed the circle. We aim to punish and to please...
ON ON ON: Under the cosy canvases again and aided by the heat of huddled bodies, this turned into a semi-bring 'n' share. Brigadoon cemented haggis, neaps and taties as part of our culinary repertoire, Limpet topped things up with egg sandwiches and grapes, and Fondue proved she is not a one trick pony with a delicious brownie cake – a bit hard for me to wolf it all down as I was having beef brisket later. Best to save the REAL gluttony for next week at the Albion.
Run number 337, 28th November 2012.
WHERE:
The George And Dragon, Felton.
HARES: Walky Talky & Cinderella.
WHO: 14 hashers & 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: The second snowy hash of the year! With Snowy travelling from Fontainebleau hash, near Paris, specially to delight in the maze of paths and the multiples of check points over Felton common. The locals were confused by Fondle decked out in lights and rather than thinking she was a walking Christmas tree mistook her for an alien escaped from the nearby airport. A weather warning of 4 degrees and falling encouraged the select pack to go faster to keep warm, (even Brigadoon said he did some running) stopping only for the essentials of sweetie and beer stops before arriving back in time for a few down downs with an airport theme led by the RA, before rushing in for our pre 9pm drinks. ON IN: A tray of Cottage pie, with a side dish of veggie something for those that don’t eat cottage, provided warming sustenance for all including Eager Beaver who arrived just in time to join the comfort of a welcoming pub.
Run 336, November 21st 2012.
WHERE:
Newton House, Clevedon.
HARES: Deep Throat and Rewind.
WHO: 18 hashers and 3 AGPU supplements, once again with no four-legged fraternity.
RUN REPORT: Our annual general p***-up again coincided with a merciful gap in the wet weather. The tried and mostly trusted Deep Throat and Rewind promised us a shortish run – that's one where you end up merely panting instead of reeling. A couple of checkpoints in and we found far too much traffic lying in wait from every direction outside Clevedon Bowling Club – once again trial and error more than instinct pointed us on the right way along Highdale Road. To continue tickling the sense of adventure the runners strolled down and up again past St Nicholas Primary School, then got lines for being late for an ascent into Fir Wood via a hairpin bend. Head torches had their work cut out here as the walkers were left to haul themselves uphill while the runners briefly turned smug. So briefly in fact that only Rocky Horror was able to get into the REAL swing of things while ascending the steps we often descend. Deep Throat then reassembled everyone with a polite V-sign on Dial Hill's cricket-less playing field – whether you dashed ahead as a runner or idled left as a walker you were delighted to see that the (H)ASH Grove graffiti from run 253 was still intact – clearly nobody sees it as vandalism and so DT is off the hook. A runner/walker collision at the next crossroads sent sparks flying, mostly in the direction of Thackeray Avenue where most of the pack short-cutted with impunity; to enforce a law you need the majority of public backing, after all. Expectant we by now were of an ascent to our favourite monolith atop Clevedon, but again the hares had a surprise in store, if only that we approached from a much shiggier trail than usual. Out and down the gobs went the liquorice allsorts and wine gums, along with some admiration of hare arts and crafts – a little daub of black paint/colourant had made the high point marker into a silly old cow. The hares also warned us to keep to the right on the steep descent back down to higher oxygen levels – much obliged if you were a runner with the shiggies, ups, downs and downers of Dial Hill to conquer. Was there to be another tumble down Clevedon's zigzag thrown into the mix? Astonishingly not – instead the trail with sea views was taken en route to Hill Road well after close of trade – time only for the runners to say Adios to the Tapas Bar and Au Revoir to Mon Plaisir (or “Gracias” if you're Mr Bean). What was the hurry? Well, after a fairly patient wait outside the Trader's Hotel it was decided the walkers had won this battle, and so On In it was for:
CIRCLE: Delighted with the news that Fondue had arrived with her pristine pavlova, we toasted circle latecomers Flour Power, Pork Scratchings, Rocky Horror and Down & Dirty, plus Irish Spew for racing himself during the On In and Briggy for “some sort of offence” (Bogs' evidence would never hold up in a court of law). Warm welcomes too for Flour Power and Dungeon Dragons; oh, what the former will do to get two drinks...
AGPU: Scrumptious stew from Deep Throat and Swallow – the mulled wine and assorted nibbles also tasted as good as home made, and I didn't disappoint Fondue by prioritising the first piece of her pavlova ahead of my manners. On to business then with a toast to new mismanagement over old – most of the roles for 2013 will be “as you were”, but with many hashers also promoted to deputy. Examples – Rocky Horror as deputy beer master (in other words he does the washing up), Irish Spew backing up Cinderella as a religious adviser, Down and Dirty taking up habidashing, scribing by you-know-who and a red dress hash on the horizon courtesy of Dungeon Dragons. Last and most came congratulations to 2012's champion hare Brigadoon with 17 such outings. Here's to another boggy year of keeping calm and checking those balls.
BOGS HHH AGPU.
21st November 2012 at Newton House, Clevedon.
  1. WELCOME & THANKS: As Grand Master of BOGS Hash House Harriers, Deep Throat welcomed everyone and thanked the out-going Mismanagement Committee for their efforts over the past year.
  2. MINUTES OF THE LAST MEETING: No objections were raised to the minutes of last year’s AGPU.
  3. ELECTION OF NEW MISMANAGEMENT COMMITTEE:
    1. BEER MASTER: ROCKY HORROR & FONDUE will take on this role assisted by LIMPET if needed.
      There are 3 Beer Cool Bags available: each Hare will be given a bag with the necessary supplies. He/she will use it as needed then take it away at the end of the hash along with all the dirty cups to be washed up and then return it the following week. This means that there should always be a spare bag ready to give to the Hare who will set the next hash.
      If an additional Beer Cool Bag is deemed to be needed this can be purchased by the Beer Master.
    2. GRAND MASTER: DEEP THROAT
    3. HASH CASH: KERB CRAWLER with LIMPET as her deputy.
      Some hashes have the position of Hash Tax who collects the hash dues but it was agreed that this role can remain as part of the Hash Cash function.
    4. HASH FLASH: HAPPY HOOKER & ROCKY HORROR
    5. HASH WEBMASTER: WOLFIE (in absentia)
    6. HASH GEEK: DUNGEON DRAGON
      This new position will initially involve creating an online group (eg yahoo or google) in order to keep and maintain an up-to-date contact lists. The group would be accessible only to the members themselves and would have an unsubscribe option.
      Hash Geek will liaise with Hash Webmaster as necessary.
    7. ON SEC: REBORE
      It was agreed that the ON Sec would be responsible for meeting and greeting new hashers and finding out if they would like to be on our mail distribution list. If so, he would take their email address and telephone number and pass this on to Hash Geek to include in the distribution list.
      Over the past year BOGS had been well represented on many other hash events especially the Lundy Hash.
      On Sec will continue the job of finding out about other hash events and letting BOGS hashers know about them (many of these are mentioned on the webpage but not everyone reads this).
      Once the online group has been set up, notification of other events will be circulated via this facility.
    8. HASH TRASH: EAGER BEAVER
      Once the online group has been set up, the Trash will be circulated via this facility.
    9. HASH HABERDASHER: DOWN&DIRTY & BAG LADY
      Monsoon in Clevedon has the BOGS logo which can be embroidered onto T-shirts and other items.
      An idea for an embroidered badge which could be sewn to any item of clothing, rucksack etc was suggested and will be discussed further.
      Any other ideas for Hash Haberdashery paraphernalia welcomed.
    10. HASH STATS: WALKY TALKY with KERB CRAWLER as her deputy.
    11. RELIGIOUS ADVISOR: CINDERELLA & IRISH SPEW
    12. HASH SONG MASTER: CINDERELLA & DT
      The Song Masters have agreed to put together a BOGS Hash Songbook with hash songs we have sung and any new ones which are deemed to be suitable. All hashers are invited to contribute.
    13. HARE RAISER: BRIGADOON & WALRUS
      As last year’s Hare Raiser, Brigadoon stepped in on a number of occasions when no Hare had volunteered. Although this was much appreciated, it was not considered to be a requirement for Hare Raisers in the future.
      It was proposed that on those occasions when no Hare is allocated against a particular date, and that date is, say, 4 weeks away, a location will be noted on the Run List and in the event that no Hare offers for that location or any other before the date of the hash, a Live Hare will be found on the night. This is not ideal but considered a viable alternative to not having a hash at all.
      A discussion ensued about how to encourage new hashers to hare. One idea put forward was that after, say, six hashes, a new hasher should be asked on what date they would be able to set a hash. The Hair Raiser would find an experienced Hare to lay the trail with the new hare.
      The Hare Raisers will work on some strategies to encourage more people to be Hares. One suggestion was to allocate a date for each hasher to lay the trail – they would then have to either lay the trail on that date or arrange for someone else to do so.
      The normal geographical area covered by BOGS is defined by the county boundary of North Somerset occasionally straying beyond.
      Once the online group has been set up, the Run List will be circulated via this facility.
  4. REPORTS:
    1. HASH STATS:
      1. We have had 66 hashes since the last AGPU including 3 ASS Hash runs and 3 joint runs (with Bristol, Kennet & Avon and/or Greyhound hashes).
      2. We now have a further 7 Centurions: Ballsport, Call Girl, Eager Beaver, Fondue, Limpit, Rebore and Walrus.
      3. 3 hashers have now done over 250 hashes with us: Rewind, Cinderella & Kerb Crawler
      4. Since the 2011 AGPU Limpit attended the most hashes (65 – she missed only last year’s AGPU) followed by Brigadoon (63), Rebore (60), Walrus (55) and Kerb Crawler(55).
      5. The record for the most hares since the last AGPU goes to Brigadoon (17 hashes) followed by Ballsport (10) and Inchworm, DT and Rebore (all on 6).
      6. The highest numbers of hashers since the last AGPU were to be found at Gordano Rugby Club in April 2012 (33 hashers) followed by Newton House in February, The Failand Inn in April and The Salthouse in August (all with 30 hashers). This excludes any joint or ASS hash events (note: there were 46 hashers on the Tri-Hash in December 2011 and 42 on both the Saturday and the Sunday of the ASS Hash in September.
      7. Since September 2012 there has been an average of 20 hashers on Wednesday evenings (but not all of these eat).
      8. The locations with the most hash events since the last AGPU are The Rudgeleigh and The Old Barn, which both chalked up 3 hashes.
      9. Smacker, who sadly passed away during the year, had notched up 25 hashes in 2012 (62 overall) and was a hare 5 times.
    2. HASH CASH:
      1. A copy of the financial summary was handed out to all present.
      2. The year began with a surplus of funds of £837.64. It had been agreed to not increase this balance any further and the financial year-end report shows a balance of £819.12.
      3. Hash Cash reminded us that up to two Hares do not pay for their run or for their food when they lay the trail.
      4. Insurance covers third party only but does not include the actions of any dogs who remain at all times the responsibility of their owners.
      5. It was agreed to maintain the current Hash Fee at £1 per hash and food at £1.50 per person.
      6. It was agreed to continue to suggest to landlords an allowance for food of about £30 noting that about 20 people will be drinking but not all of them will be eating.
  5. RED DRESS CHARITY RUN:
    1. Dungeon Dragon was keen to promote this and has suggested that the Children’s Hospice South West should be the beneficiary.
    2. He has suggested that this would probably work better in the summer months and will look into setting up an event later.
    3. This event could be an invitation event to which other hashers were especially welcomed.
  6. CLEVEDON BOXING DAY RUN:
    1. This event is not a hash event but a charity run organised by another group. However, it is popular with hashers and many of us are expecting to join in or to go along in support.
    2. There was no enthusiasm for a hash on that same evening (as Boxing Day falls on a Wednesday this year).
    3. Not being a hash organised by BOGS HHH, the Boxing Day Run will not take a hash run number.

As the concentration levels of the hashers had been well and truly reached, the meeting ended – sort of. On On to another year of BOGS hashing!


Run 335, November 14th 2012.
WHERE:
The Penscott Inn, Shipham.
HARES: Tumbling Ted and Harenet.
WHO: 16 houndless hashers and 2 latecomers.
RUN REPORT: With the hares slightly South West of their Rowberrow home turf, Deep Throat promptly got everyone into the spirit for next week's AGPU with a Father Abraham warmup – though some of us were too busy admiring the sparkling stars to coordinate our swinging arms and legs properly. We did still retain the motor skills to walk and run – for runners it was uphill past Folly House and the chance for an early sit down for Rewind, right in the middle of a not-quite-equilateral triangle. To locate the front-walking-b******s we promptly propelled ourselves back down more tarmac while screaming “ka-ka!” a few times, next we took a well guarded house on our left as a sign that it was time to hit the shiggy, and finally the welcome return of T5 helped us to notice the walkers' headlights creeping through the foliage yonder. While still playing a bit of semi-catchup the pack then gave Tumbling Ted a lesson in navigation – just let Rewind run ahead the wrong way and you'll soon see an arrow. At the head of Autumn we evaded Winterhead Farm and continued the brisk pace needed to pass over a few hurdles and shiggy pits, all the while trying to ignore the illuminated views of Sidcot and the prowling A38 to our right. All hashers not quite so AWOL, order was built up so it could be knocked down again at our sweet stop preceded by skid marks – Randoms, tangy Haribo and Jelly Babies departed us in double quick time. Google Maps has no idea where we were, so instead we discovered the magic of reading signs – Sidcot Nature Trail, it turned out, had been the vibrant hares' route of choice, for the most part. Less vibrant, more gloating, were the walkers as the runners were then sent into a false – ignoring the hare always has its merits. There was however a genuine speed split out on the road – the walkers apparently were on a route unsuitable for HGVs, though Eager Beaver seemed to make it through no problem. The runners were again relied on to find the way onward through trial and error, and this gave late-latecomers Rebore and Limpet the chance to catch up at a crossroads – to the uninitiated, this made up for them being early-earlycomers for last week who gave the trail a patented R/L signature – hats forever off to them. No more slip-ups in Sidcot as we at least then turned pensively in the direction of the Penscott – first up though was a near 1 in 1 ascent through a bovine shiggy minefield, one of which was unfortunately set off by Walrus. As we reached what we thought was the top our hare warned us to beware of deer; however the real danger came from the dark shiggy monster rising up from the depths below. He was all of 200 metres in length and forever threatened to swallow a hasher whole, and yet he discovered that hashers working together are more formidable than piranha, and we duly reached our next turning with only a few mere slips rather than trips. With Shipham now showing its anything-but-ugly mug in the distance, the pack split once again briefly prior to taking on a slippery staircase and a babbling brook – at this moment poor Kerb Crawler discovered her de-mister had stopped working; instead the serendipity was reserved for those with Mendip Challenge experience, for we quickly came to the site of one of the trail's checkpoints. To anyone wanting to initiate a midnight run to Weston Hospice there was just 10 ¼ miles to go, for all others it was time to On In parallel to the Shipham traffic, at an excellent time of 1 hour 27 minutes.
CIRCLE: Dovetailing neatly with the beer stop and pub, the hares were given a rounding chorus of “Starry Starry Night” - they're the only words that I know. Down downs too for the early and late Rebore and Limpet, Rewind for giving his legs a 10 second rest and Rocky Horror for whom our only words are Oh Deer.
ON ON ON: I've run out of soup-erlatives to describe this ladel-accompanied cuisine, for which buttered granary bread also made an excellent companion. The hares also provided a choice of 3 chocolate fingers for pudding – the most popular choice was all 3 together. Announcements made for a Koko memorial hash weekend in February and the customary “bring yer own” for next week's AGPU. Calling tonight's Lion King viewer Fondue – it just won't feel the same next week without YOUR dessert...
Run number 334, 7th November 2012.
WHERE:
The Stag and Hounds, Churchill.
HARES: Down & Dirty aided by Eager Beaver.
WHO: 18 hashers, 1 hound and LR.
RUN REPORT: Down & Dirty’s first hare-ing gave us a well marked good mix of fields, paths & tracks, with sufficient turns and twists for Kerb Crawler to lose track of where we were as we got to Churchill traffic lights (we were at errm..... Churchill lights), and for Walrus to be pointing 180 degrees in the wrong direction when trying to describe where a pub was whilst we chewed on sweets at the sweetie stop. A good trail of flour was augmented by mysterious additional “L” and “R” markings at some of the checkpoints – was this hash sabotage?, an instruction on which order to move feet when running? or.......... ? All was revealed later at the pub when Limpet & Rebore turned up late claiming that they’d turned up early and left their initials to prove that they been there. However, by turning up early and late they missed the welcome hot mulled wine at the beer (in name only) stop enjoyed by those who turned up at the normal time.
CIRCLE: We managed to have a circle to drink down down to the hares and thank Down & Dirty for a well planned route which gave a good bit of exercise and still got us back to the pub by 10 to 9, before she rushed off to her next social engagement (I thought it was only Cinderella who went rushing off to the next pub after a hash).
ON IN: plates of combo meals and chips kept us replenished, with MissApp digging into the chicken wings saying that she had only said that she was a veggie because it was quicker than saying that she didn’t eat meat unless it was foul – or something like that.
Run number 666/2, 31st October 2012.
THE HALF BEAST HALLOWEEN RUN!
WHERE:
The Barn Nailsea.
HARE: This Old Devil called Briggy and his silent but deadly accomplice Ball Sport.
WHO: 19 hashers, no teen hashers, probably dressed to frighten or kill the neighbours, tricking elsewhere.
RUN REPORT (written by this week's scary scribe, Call Girl): As with all Briggy/Ball Sport runs, severe shiggy is a must, so as soon as we left the pub, Hare Net who should have known better, was up to her ears in it. Briggy advised keeping to the edge of the field, next to the dark fast flowing river to keep out of the shiggy, yes Briggy much drier in that. Cleverly designed markings, ghostly, ghouly and cobwebby were laid along the trail, some high up on trees, only for Inchworm, with a full backbone to see. ‘’Deer oh deer, oh deer’’ croaked Rocky as three deer ran past him in the woods, ‘I nearly wet myself’ he added soaked to the skin. The Hashers went backwards and forwards in the woods, losing the trail and their minds, terrified, wringing wet and mostly just whingeing. Walrus and Irish Spu, always group aware, sent a satellite message to report that they were ok and in the pub. ‘I’ve had enough, I’m off’ shouted Rebore going loco and short-cutted north towards Portishead. At last the hashers re grouped and re discovered the trail, out of the dark and nasty woods out into the half- light down a dark and twisty road on in to the pub. The Beer stop was cancelled as Briggy doesn’t like a downpour in his cider, lifts were offered to the weak and wobbly.
ON IN: This pub was going for the full mental approach, lit up like Bedlam, skeletons, cloudy smoke, everyone dressed to thrill. Eager came late wearing a headache and Fast Forward with a designer’s witch hat. BBQ grub great with puddings supplied by Fondle. This was a brolly good hash, Ofhash declared it outstanding.

Run number 332, Saturday, October 27th 2012.

Run number 331, October 24th 2012.
WHERE:
The Old Inn, Clevedon.
HARE: Deep Throat – master soloist.
WHO: Approx. 19 hashers and 1 hound Larking in the Mud.
RUN REPORT: Inevitably with a rendezvous at the Old Inn came the expectation of a hash up nearby Court Woods in the dark, and yet still our grandmaster of all he surveys had plenty of surprises in store. The first wasn't even from him – it was merely a scribe playing catchup and devastated to miss a hoki-coki warmup. Instead the muscles were flexed via an ascent through the foliage of Fir Wood, with hairpin bends along a frizzy path if you ran and hair raising views if you walked. All paces emerged onto the back end of Dial Hill and were greeted by a platoon of frolicking scouts/aspiring hashers; inspired we were then for a bit of child's play – while descending rapidly down “The Ripple” Rewind felt the urge to head back to school thanks to a concealed checkpoint, while 6 of us got lines for colliding with a fish hook at the bottom. A mix of sports was what Deep Throat now had on our agenda – a swift dash across the road led us first to some hill climbing as we did indeed enter Court Woods through the back door, then a spot of ducking and diving through bridges made of scaffolding (of all the nerve...) and holly. Suffice to say these obstacles thinned out the pack and another fish hook for 6 seemed most welcome, even if a few FRBs were heard grumbling. Any quarrelling aptly ceased at Conygar Quarry – there were simply too many sights to take in to bother picking fights. Among them were a turnback and the evening's highlight to which it pointed – a muddy version of Everest, which I do believe was still within the boundaries of dear Clevedon. After plenty of whoas but no nice trips, the hash sports day culminated in a sweet stop platter of sports mix and jelly babies – there'll be very little fat left to wobble soon. As a “reward” for his sterling work, Deep Throat was then headbutted by a savage branch – it seemed to equip him with extra cunning, though, as much of the remainder was spent calling back FRBs/the entire pack with miraculously appearing arrows. Extra hooks for 10 and 6 were also thrown into the mire, and if they were not quite successful at keeping order then the beer stop certainly was. It had been hare-couriered all the way to this point, and we were only too keen to lighten the load when alcohol, pineapple juice, apple and kiwifruit were on the menu. Nobody's perfect, it seems – though it did take the combined effort of the entire pack continuing the wrong way to make the hare mark it as such. After telling each other off we then embarked the right way and sent out a chorus of approval as the bedroom lights of Clevedon reappeared to our left. Court Woods was duly then exited via our normal entrance, and everyone rightly assumed that save for a good sprint back to the Old Inn, that was that. A well nigh perfect timing of 1 hour 30 minutes – the blissful yet strenuous and shiggy content had made it seem like so much more.
CIRCLE: All had only been sort of forgotten from last week – Happy Hooker and Rewind were called into the circle and reminded to “put the flour down down down down....” Despite being told that 6 fish hooks was not enough, Deep Throat was still commemorated as the Grand Old Duke of York, though tonight he had 9982 less (wo)men to march up and down. Getting Irish Spew and Cinderella to sit down must have taken some effort, though with Briggy and Ballsport it is becoming increasingly compulsory. Time to interrupt another Old Inn pub quiz, methinks...
Run number 330, October 17th 2012.
WHERE:
The Ring O'Bells, Nailsea.
HARES: Rewind & Happy Hooker.
WHO: 17-1 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: We all love you, Rewind. Some of us found this urban turned shiggy slosh of a trail a little hard going, but many of the esteemed bogs will surely have been happy to wade through their namesake. The trail began with little such drama – we on outed past Grove Sports Centre and then skirted a field at 2 different speeds. Following a hare as we then entered a blind alley had inevitable consequences, so we then turned back the correct way and briefly took in a view of Nailsea, at a time when only man-made illumination prospered. We then headed downhill into more suburbia, with Rewind to thank for rounding up the back runners and fortune particularly smiling on an ever-improving Down and Dirty – a quick retirement back to the pub was on her cards, no doubt conserving energy for her next hare-raising experience. A checkpoint in the middle of the main road (technically on a traffic island, but it still counts) was then solved and sent us in the direction of Nailsea School's outskirts. You guessed it – floodlights were seen again! Of course our headlights were up to the task at hand – in fact Tumbling Ted went one step further by transforming into a traffic warden on the approach to the High Street; pity there was no traffic. We were inevitably the envy of all within Scotch Horn Leisure Centre as we sped past it (runners adding a blind alley into the bargain), before proceeding through Heath Gate and leaving the slightly safer road-crossing option to the runners (a clue – it was a tunnel that went under the road). To emphasise a lack of hard feelings we then regrouped outside the Friendship Inn (awww!) and detected via all our knowledge of air pressure that the rain was about to begin in earnest. Our initial response was commendable – 5 hashers squeezed into a phone box to avoid the elements, but were soon tempted back out when they heard the rustling of bogs of jelly babies and sports mix for the sweet stop. For the time being we stayed together with another necessary regroup under the shelter of a car showroom, followed duly by being taken for a spin down a very familiar winding path – it takes us past the playground which starred in our former website photo. This time however we branched off to the right (I myself have bogged to the left there at least thrice) and ended up opposite the moment of truth for this trail. What had Down and Dirty missed, and indeed what did Happy Hooker, Fair Weather (not this time!), Briggy and several others opt out of? Well, first of all it was the most charming Farmer Giles us Bogs are ever likely to encounter. Rather than the traditional “Get Orf Moi Land!!” it was more like “excuse me, I do not wish to cause you any offence, but I could not help but notice your intended trail in flour passes my back garden, and my bloodthirsty canines may cause you a certain level of discomfort. Therefore I strongly suggest you reconsider your hashing plans, if it is not too much trouble, of course”. Cinderella it was, then, who took upon the task of ensnaring the FRBs before something less pleasant did the same. Walky Talky then helped us with our navigation over and back over the Middle Yeo – signs saying “public footpath” were the clue, and after miraculously surviving a trudge to end all trudges through many shiggy fields with zero falls and even all the shoes still attached, we felt just in need of a bit more suburbia. With the rain now making a sincere effort to teem down, we arrived on Rewind's doorstep complete with cider, exotic juice, dates, apples, oranges and pineapple – very good health on a potentially unhealthy trail. Either my tired eyes then played tricks on me or we were then treated to an On In of record length – after passing/hallucinating said symbol we still needed to pass by local rival pubs the Moorend Spout and the White Lion, with Rewind giving us a much appreciated history lesson of the former. Thankfully nobody listened to my navigational advice as we emerged back onto St Mary's Grove – a right rather than a left would probably have meant we'd still be searching for the pub now...
CIRCLE AND ON ON ON: Down & Dirty quickly seized me by the scruff of my soaking neck for a departure for skittles duty, so I assume all food and ambience went down well, that crimes went duly punished and most importantly that we all arrived back safely in 17 soaking pieces. Here's to all weather hashes!
Run number 329, October 10th 2012.
WHERE:
Railway Inn, Yatton.
HARES: Call Girl and sort of Walrus.
WHO: 18 hashers, 2 hounds and 2 latecomers.
RUN REPORT: "I planned it, she set it", claimed a somewhat inco-harent Walrus, which explained his slight navigational difficulties in this welcomely dry circumnavigation of Yatton. For On Out we semi-raced against a Great Western pulling out of the station, in the knowledge that On Out was identical to On In so some good clear markings adorned the trail. After rounding a few corners we happened upon blobs on alternating sides of the road – it was enough to phase me as I imminently missed a checkpoint pointing down a blind alley and had my boggy instincts to thank for not getting lost. The walkers then disobeyed a no-entry sign and happened upon a sabotaged symbol outside St Mary Church - without wishing to follow too many blind alleys the runners thus came hither in time for a sweet stop. A feast it was too - foam bananas and haribo build-a-burgers which I certainly prefer to the meaty sort. A modern "WR" symbol pointed us back through the graveyard and past a floodlit astro turf with women’s football in full swing/punt. After resisting the urge to steal some traffic cones outside the fire station we regrouped by the B3133 (joined by Harenet and a promptly stripping-down Tumbling Ted), and then were grateful to the Ka-kas giving way to us, even though Lollipop was absent. Time then to tickle our sense of adventure - the hares had duly discovered another approach to Cadbury Hill Nature Reserve via Henley Lane (Walrus though discovered his co-hare’s fish hook for 6 too late), and after ascending through some shiggy we rendezvoused to the tune of hundreds of surrounding clicking crickets - made us feel like the small ones, did it. Plenty of low branches needed to be ducked and also the brakes had to be applied on the way back down Cadbury Hill. After passing Cadbury House the back runners (with a virgin among them) found themselves worryingly short of runners/escorts, and had Call Girl to thank for not falling into the trap of looking for a short cut that wasn’t there. Instead they found for the second week in a row that a set of floodlights makes a good homing beacon, and a contingent of the runners were duly discovered at a crossroads just before the beer stop. The sweets from earlier had been specially cloned for this and supplemented by apple juice and cider, and boy was this sustenance needed for the bedlam of an On In that beckoned. Ambling along an innocent enough looking Chescombe Road, we suddenly found ourselves confronted with a 50 metre stretch quagmire of shiggy; the rain had done its job but the sun had not. Enough light was made of the proceedings, and there was also a long stretch of the Strawberry Line to dry your shoes if you were a spoilsport. The simultaneous sight of bedroom lights and sounds of Great Westerns pulled us over the finishing line/bridge again, totalling 5 miles for an exquisitely timed arrival at 9pm. Odd that starting next to a railway would make us run on time.
ON ON ON: This preceded an indoor circle and was simply soupreme cuisine. Even with the addition of Bag Lady, Coppertone and Down & Dirty we struggled to polish off the cauldron of soup and tres bien trays of croutons and rolls; quite possibly a feast designed for Summer hash numbers.
CIRCLE: After slurping our soup and crunching our croutons we staked our territory in the corner of the pub for a circle - Brigadoon, Inchworm and Backchat received overdue hare down downs. Brigadoon took an extra on behalf of the absent Cowslip, and then another along with Ballsport for sitting at a regroup - the view was that nice. Drinks also went the way of the latecomers and late-latecomers, and also a warm welcome went the way of virgin Rosemary, an acquaintance of Clanger and Batty. Hold the presses though for Limpet - she had gone all promiscuous on the hash with an attempt to hook a Kiwi. No comment, except that we happen to be heading to the Ring O' Bells at Nailsea next week.
Run number 328, October 6th 2012.
WHERE:
The Boro' Arms, Weston-super-Mare.
HARES: Brigadoon and Cowslip.
WHO: A respectable 10, but with 0 hounds!
RUN REPORT: On a sunny but not scorching Saturday we assembled outside the Boro' Arms with a briefing of no fish hooks or beer stop, with the substitute being the “thud thud” of Cowslip's basketball practice all around the trail. After wisely hurdling the Weston Main Line with a bridge we took a left turn towards the labyrinth of Locking Castle, while helping ourselves to a few more blackberries whom can only have a few days left. After being made to squirm a little thanks to one of Briggy's late arrows, the same choice of ditch hurdles from run 227 beckoned - thankfully this trail had twice as many participants, so there was pretty much an even split between using the cargo net, cargo tunnel and stepping stones. Naturally these hurdles had been the prelude to a sweety stop within a big kids' playground - Brigadoon here laid down the gauntlet of “no sweets until you score a basket”. So Cowslip's basketball had an ulterior motive after all. Well, most of us were as bad with our throwing arms as we were good with our running legs, though Rebore certainly seemed to find his form after some initial rustiness. Eventually Brigadoon and sweet courier Eager Beaver distributed the sweets anyway via a sympathy vote - Tangy Haribo to make defeat taste even more bitter. Upon exiting the playground tragically missing a zip wire, Misapp decided to launch an interest in big hamster wheels instead (not what you might think), but imminently all of our brains were spinning as many a crossroad checkpoint was then bumped into - trying to find your way in Locking Castle is hard enough in a car, after all. Lifting ourselves above all the identical houses with a railway bridge certainly helped, since we then hashed through Wakehurst Gardens whose sign had been graffitied into “Wak ‘Um Gardens” - we decided not to. We kept to leisurely pace in the face of oncoming bikers and actually found a lot of the surrounding graffiti quite charming, if not the spelling and grammar. The exit to this dungeon was via B&Q on the industrial estate on Aisecombe Way - we also flew past a Frankie and Bennys whose excellence I can vouch for having substituted hashing with eating there a few weeks ago. Traffic lights regrettably had a part to play in helping us cross the A370, but after passing Hutton Moor Leisure Centre we encountered purely hare-made hazards. Firstly Briggy made a successful effort to jog over this trail's 4th railway expanse, and then just as we saw the pub after emerging onto Locking Road, we were presented with a long cut of a suburban On In. The only sign of normality as we touched down was, of course, that Cowslip's basketball was still-a-bouncing...
CIRCLE: Obviously the spread therein was too good to delay while worrying about mere geometric shapes. ON ON ON: Indeed it was. The tray or 3 of ham, beef and chicken sarnies served up for the 10 of us were the best thing since sliced bread.
Our friend and fellow-hasher Koko "Smacker" Newport died unexpectedly at home on Wednesday 19th September.
 
This is Call Girl's write-up of Koko's final "hash", held on Thursday, 4th October 2012.

WHERE: Glastonbury.
WHO: Bag lady, Coppertone, Inch worm, Back Chat, Walkie talkie, Rebore, Limpet, Fondle, Hair net, Dungeons, Call girl, Happy Hooker, Rewind, Clanger, Push up, Flour Power, Patricia, Up Yours, Bovver, Down and Dirty, Brig, Cowslip, Ball Sport.
RUN REPORT: A trail-less hash set in Glastonbury, starting from parked cars on to a frothy coffee stop in the centre. No chalk or flour needed, hashers made their way to the Goddess Hall. Gathering in their mixed finery, hashers had obviously rifled through their cupboards and come up with something bright as ordered. Flour Power wore a skirt of every colour just to be sure. Shoes and boots were removed at the entrance – no shiggy to be left in here, thank you - a lilac coffin took centre stage, only silent contemplation, except for Rebore who contemplated quietly the purplelessness of his shirt. Gentle singing and drumming accompanied Koko on her way through streets to the Town Hall. Workers, pedestrians, drivers and probably the clocks, stopped, as the FRBs and Goddesses in a silent procession took up all of the road. Hashers crept in and found a wall to lean on, or stole a seat to sit in, and listened as family and friends took turns to tell tales of Koko's many and far flung adventures. My! What a time she'd had, hashing only one of her many exploits! Finally the service over, the congregation spilled out on to the road once more and watched the coffin lifted into the funeral van, ready to escort the family to their private gathering.
ON IN: Held in Koko's own Camino centre, sumptuous food and wine flowed, hashers mingled with goddesses, priestesses, friends and acquaintances, as all reminisced about our mutual friend Koko. Brigadoon, sat in the sun sipping cider, Limpet sat inside giving out brollies to the wrong owners and Charlie moved sadly amongst the throng.

An exceptional farewell to an exceptional lady.


Run number 327, October 3rd 2012.
WHERE:
The Phoenix Bar, Portishead.
HARES: Inchworm and Backchat.
WHO: 23 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: We are running out of fresh ideas for routes from the Phoenix, so it's just as well the setting is so enchanting. This evening's On Out led us past St Peter's Primary School and into a speed split, but not before some non-hash hounds had inevitably bullied Mudlark into submission. T junctions galore quickly led us in the direction of The Albion (the runners AND virgins present looped around a blind bend for good measure) and then came the trot/canter past another beacon of progress for any Portishead hash - the ever-illuminated astro turf within Gordano School; take note of this if you get lost in the woods later. For as expected as it was at this stage, many of us were still undoubtedly pleased to be paying another darkened visit to Weston Big Wood - the approach was aptly spiced up by letting the runners squirm on the approaching field/runway. Complacency set in to an extent - the back-marking Backchat noticed that many a checkpoint had not been kicked out properly by the FRBs. The punishment? Well, it was seemingly premeditated, for the runners had been sent on such a lengthy loop that they were only left with the scraps of a sublime sweety stop - the walkers had thoroughly enjoyed gorging on Mallow Cocktail and Fruit Pastilles at the top of some stairs without a Stannah. What goes up must tumble down through shiggy, especially if it means taking in yet more lovely views of a twilit Portishead and the aforementioned beacon. Several obstacles still stood in our path - first a bovine shiggy minefield and then once back on the main road the reactions of some youths on micro scooters were severely tested. All gracefully and miraculously intact, we stepped out of the darkness onto the High Street marked On In. With THAT sweetie stop, I don't think anyone was going to dare bemoan the lack of a beer stop; maybe something even better awaited back at The Phoenix yonder?
CIRCLE: This again may have been preceded by my skittles duty, but mention must be made of virgins (and possible one-timers, owing to geographical convenience) Mel and Claire, plus the returning Drop 'Em and Turbo - the latter's pace probably helps keep the rest of us warm.
ON ON ON: It wasn't just photographer Happy Hooker's presence that made us exclaim “cheese!” No, there was a smashing smorgasbord of Brie, crumbly Cheddar and goats' rennet-treated milk ready to be devoured, complimented by baguettes (at first mistaken for spring rolls by a famished scribe), crisps and salad stuffs, polished off by the appearing Coppertone and Bag Lady. Warm and cosy, welcoming of outside food, plenty of On Out directions, friendly staff - very few boxes left to tick, has The Phoenix.
Run number 326, 26th September 2012.
WHERE:
The Rudgeleigh Inn, Easton In Gordano.
HARE: Rocky Horror.
WHO: About 18 hashers, no hounds.
RUN REPORT written by this week's Scribe, Call Girl: Rocky's inaugural hash came appropriately enough après le déluge and during Yom Kippur, a day of repentance and atonement. How classy is that? Hashers wandered off optimistically hoping for and were rewarded with, a well laid trail, down and through Easton in Gordano. KC lived up to her name, righting traffic signals, giving flood advice to travellers and helping an old lady into her car. Rewind ran along like Mary Poppins; he'd mugged an angler earlier it seems for his umbrella, and Dubai fried Back chat regaled all with tales of taking Inchworm up to the top of tallest building in the world . His head must have been poking through the clouds! A sleek sports car indicated a much needed beer stop under a tree and for some, under the stolen fishing brolly. Walkers were offered a short cut back to base but, Rewind, Never enough and self, always hardy and sometimes foolhardy, opted for a final rinse and spin around the runner's route, on in to the pub.
CIRCLE: Held inside, surprise surprise, next to diners, the group sang Wee're Hashing In The Rain to a round of applause. Weddings and Bar Mitzvahs next? Down downs included Walrus who had completed 125 hashes and latecomers chesty Fondue and bruised and sore Flour Power. A very late Eager Beaver appeared in time for left overs.
ON IN: Lots of healthy looking sandwiches and chips. Limpet lurched about and was heard muttering repeatedly about bike rides – how sad to see such a rapid decline.
Run number 325, September 19th 2012.
WHERE:
The Miner's Rest, Long Ashton.
HARE: Irish Spew.
WHO: 16 hashers, 2 hounds and 2 latecomers.
RUN REPORT: We really are warming to Long Ashton lately. At our fourth instalment from the Miner's Rest we braced ourselves for “an idiotic trail” as forewarned by the hare - proof soon emerged when we substituted warming up for having the intricacies of the trail explained. A brisk downhill On-Outed us to a checkpoint just in time for Cinderella and Kerb Crawler to play their customary game of catch-up, not that they were the only AWOLs, of course. For Rocky Horror had already pulled a too fast one by missing a false and only caught us up as we were speeding promptly past some rowdy adolescents who were shouting anything but encouragement. We then kept up a leisurely pace on the entrance to Providence Plantation (actual name), and while trying our very best to get lost in these eerie woods the only thing we didn't find was three bears (junior hasher Jack in particular kept up a pace I do not recall having when I was 8). After negotiating a nettle/triffid alley and finding to our astonishment that following the hare at a checkpoint worked, we found ourselves over par on Long Ashton Golf Course. A springy path underfoot then increased our momentum - a vital trait in preparation for crossing the looming B3128: a road that never sleeps. Of course this was not even small fry measured up against our next expeditious phase. For the plunge we then took into Pill Grove leading towards Ashton Court Estate. First there was 5 front runners obeying a fish hook for 4 (obviously keen to compensate for previously lazy FRBs), and then several marauding cyclists had to be afforded wide berths en route to our sweety stop with en-suite Lime Kiln. After consuming an uneven split of Randoms, Jelly Babies, Pastilles and Sports Mix we headed downhill into a walker/runner split. The walkers ended up idling at a crossroads while waiting for a diligent combination of hare and hellraiser, and after many a wagging finger we headed ever nearer towards a favourite meeting place of hot air balloons. We grew increasingly sceptical that Irish Spew had set this trail alone in just two hours, particularly during a slalom through trees with sporadic flour and the back runners beginning to tire. This may explain then why we imminently trudged through a deer park seemingly with no deer in it, but the hounds kept their hashers on leads as a precaution nonetheless. A beer bag fished out from the bushes then made the perfect mood lightener, complete with pear cider, Strongbow and Exotic Juice to suit all palates. Oh, and I forgot to mention that I had taken that Ashtonian mystery tour with the upped ante of a head torch battery in its death throes. Luckily Brigadoon lent me a spare for which I was granted interest free credit, and the navigator inside all of us was very satisfied to endure another B3128 crossing and tour of the golf course back doubles. An On Home symbol added even more reassurance to our belief there was only a little way to go, though the biggest irony befell us last of all - this thoroughly enjoyable 2 hour trail arrived back at the pub via Short Lane!
CIRCLE: With the rain starting at its customary late hour, junior Jack took some spare hare credit (he certainly had done his share of leading throughout), while welcomes were toasted for Sparky the hare's hound plus James from Weston, who amiably wanted to make running more interesting. Unpunished crimes included at least 5 sitters at a mid-woods regroup plus a brief tumble for Kerb Crawler; you can't expect to lose 'em all...
ON ON ON: Not quite alone among the cosy rafters of the Miner's Rest were we, but more than satisfactorily sated by sossies, sarnies and the salt with our chips.
Dedicated to Smacker.
Run Number 324, 12th September 2012.
WHERE:
Plume of Feathers [or maybe it was The Prince's Motto - Brig.] Barrow Gurney.
HARES: Temporary import PipSqueak, newly qualified OAP Limpet and elderly and confused Rebore.
WHO: About 25 hashers and 3 hash hounds.
RUN REPORT by this week's Scribe, Call Girl: Several hashers from the weekend were missing in action, presumed still lying in a ditch and sobering up. Up Yours nursing her bruises after Saturday night fighting with Walrus and Inchworm and Backchat, on their way to Dubai, probably in the mile high club, if recent antics are anything to go by. After a quick circle, short wearing hashers were warned to cover up, so out came Spotted Dicks natty winter attire, and Rebore pulled his socks over his knees. As walkers and runners went off on their separate trails, down came the rain: Brigadoon stayed calm and returned to the pub with Ball Sport to check his balls. Others trudged on. Hashers regrouped before a path through the stingiest nettles ever. Much cursing ensued. Soon the trail became really difficult to find, heavy rain, nothing but torchlight and a hare who kept forgetting where he'd laid the flour! Nearly back to the pub, and much needed beer, just a short hop over to the road BUT NO………… Pipsqueak had ingeniously lain on an angry landowner, South African style: ‘GERT ORF MOI LAAAANNND' He bellowed in Somerset patois. No guns or dogs this time ……. Or Irish Spew would have spewed his last. Quickly and without too much moaning, the hash regrouped, bravely jumped across some rapids and found another exit point, out onto the road and into the pub.
CIRCLE AND ON IN: Hashers loudly berated the wet and soggy hares before tucking into plenty of sandwiches, sausages and chips.
Run number 323, 9th September 2012.
WHERE:
Tucker's Grave, Faulkland.
HARE: Deep Throat.
WHO: Diluted numbers – 29 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: As with last year's ASS it was time for a nice little warm down after packing away the tents in double quick time, from a campsite to which we may some day return. Warming up for this warm down constituted a DT-inspired penguin frolic in the sunshine, followed by a straight uphill into oncoming traffic evening, reminiscent of two evenings prior. All intact were we as we then turned toward Lime Kiln Farm and its neighbouring public fields. Several stiles slowed the BRBs to less than walking pace at times, as did a spot or five of blackberry picking and taking the precaution to tether the hounds while passing through an electrified field of sheep. This time, Fondue did not get fried, possibly due to Mudlark demonstrating the easiest way to bypass the current first. Duly On-Onning, we kissed a few gates and regrouped in the grounds of Lavender Farm, specially for a recital of “Lavender Blue by the vocally talented among us, even reaching a deliberate falsetto for the final verse. A briefing then followed regarding the trail remainder – one could either be a slow walker, an orthodox walker or a runner. With virtually an even split of numbers, the latter two contingents made their way up past the nearby Faulkland Inn and along a shaded country path, with the runners and orthodoxes then splitting up in earnest after hurdling a couple of shiggy swamps and skirting another electric fence. At the top of a rather small peak the walkers spotted a country lane to the right and the remnants of the runners to the left, so on right it was for them past an immaculately constructed dry stone wall in the assumed direction of Tucker's Grave. Tucking into some bulbous blackberries was, however, still on the agenda, and upon reaching the weekend's last checkpoint a victory over the runners was assumed; however several were already discovered at the pub, with Swallow posting herself as the finishing line. By now it really had felt more than ever like a weekend well spent.
CIRCLE: Naturally of a purely congratulatory nature – Bag Lady squeezed all of our positive ASS thoughts into one delightful poem, while Cinderella the RA and Brigadoon and Ballsport the devoted hares drank to their own brilliance. Kerb Crawler donned a pink shirt to commemorate the equally dashing feat of 250 hashes, while Snapper was the new name for the day's photographer and Toad received the hash handle of pipsqueak (I can assure you this was alcohol-related; very few people are turned into wimps by hashing).
ON ON ON: A Briggy BBQ is not to be missed even if you felt like treating this Sunday like any other. Aside from the usual suspects on the grill there was pate and a wide assortment of pocket size Haribos. As our second year of very happy hash camping drew to a close under the culinary guise of its master-in-command, I can still say with confidence we burned more calories than we took in. On On for next year!
Run Number 322, 8th September 2012. Not for the squeemish!

WHERE:
Stowford Manor Farm around and back again – ASS Hash Run 2!
HARES: Brigadoon & Ballsport.
WHO: 45 hashers and 3 hounds.
RUN REPORT: A scribe can only take in so much info. More participants then the night before were accounted for despite Backchat and Coppertone opting out (albeit only half for the latter) – where have all my maths gone? Up in smoke with the morning mist that greeted us, so it seems. After a repeat of the no holds barred breakfasts from last year and a touch of shower sharing by you-know-who-you-are, we circled up for a briefing about an all day hash set in red paper with pub crawling, to boot. Not before hearing the news we had all been waiting for, though – Brigadoon's phone was safe and sound, and surely we would be on his trail, right? Thus the die was cast for all senses of adventure as we On Outed across the main road and into a 100 metre uphill stretch of DIY blackberrying. We had also been informed of fish hooks for 1 to 10 in no particular order, but naturally Cinderella had to be a lone victim at one point, so why not right at the start. Happy that at least one FRB had been temporarily banished, the throng emerged amid a distinctly insectoid humming to take in simultaneous views of Somerset and Wiltshire. A trial of champions then awaited all – hurdle the shiggy, duck the bramble bridges and then skirt the shiggy, leave 9 FRBs to get hooked, and finally search long and hard for the remnants of your dignity. Easier to spot was the On On – a steep downhill towards Iford Estate – in the midst of some traffic dodging there emerged several photo ops with a scowling statue. We reckoned it was Boudicca leading an uprising against an army of Roman hashers – perhaps a resident of Iford will read this and correct our philistinic ways. Any who, we kept to the Roman theme with a long, straight road plus fish hook for 4, before diving abruptly into the vegetation for a welcome uphill in the shade, now that the mist was ancient history. After several narrow trails on the up and the down, we descended to a crossroads where we had to come and go several times, just for the sake of getting Ballsport to kick the checkpoint out for us in the direction of our first pub stop. A Beer Here symbol greeted us as we reached the Inn at Freshford, and after hydrating ourselves in the sun it was on uphill again along Station Road in the direction of the railway bridge, taking a glass from the Inn with you if you were Rebore! Several non-hashers showed their support as we tore past them, and could count their lucky stars that we had not been 5 minuted quicker. For just around the bend there was one set of horizontal FRBs out to catch some rays, then up ahead there was some hashing au naturel! Tumbling Ted and Rewind had opted to bathe in the river at least with some fig leaves in place, but the plaudits went to Walrus and Duracell for going the whole nine yards with their skinny-dipping (admittedly the throng was only mildly surprised by this). Some walkers still probably wanted time apart from the nudists after this scandal, and they got their wish as on yonder Crowe Hill the walkers skipped towards Hop Pole Inn to down drink stop number 2 and avoid plenty of ravenous insects. Imminently the welcome returnee (if only for a day) Woodcut was given some home truths about how to obey a fishhook by Brigadoon, and in fact the same tough love beckoned for all the walkers as they were left to “check it out” themselves after darting away from the main road. The answer, though swift in coming, was still an unlikely source – a contingent of commandeered narrowboats idling down a neighbouring canal. A good thing that this mile-long stretch of the trail was so visually peaceful, since several hazards of the hares' and the public's making had to be endured. First there was many a speeding cyclist to slalom around (we can only guess how nerve racking the cyclists found it, with us making a right hash of their ride), and then poor Walky Talky went it alone in checking out a steep (and false) checkpoint which everyone else had already dismissed. Any malice though was duly taken out on the runners who we were by now missing, by turning the fish hooks along the side of the canal into runner hooks. This way the runners caught up directly opposite the Tsitsikamma barge (I hereby propose Tsitsikamma as a hash handle for a future FRB), just in time for the news of Cowslip's retirement for one afternoon. After that monumental stretch of gravel we were in need of some lush green grass underfoot, even if only for a couple of minutes while pacing through a field marked “Warning! Cows with Calves!” Well I didn't see any – I was too busy contemplating the next novelty challenge lurking around the corner; a choice on the ascent to walk, crawl or run forward. Every option was plumped for, if not quite with even numbers, but choosers can't be beggars. One very good choice was quickly discovered after emerging through the woods and over an aquaduct in Avoncliff – for pub stop 3 the hares had opted for the scenic Cross Guns Free House, complete with vast garden area and already a few FRBs tapping their watches. Food beckoned too – an invaluable sustenance choice of novelty hot dogs, burgers and veggeburgers on French bread, with plenty of time for self-funded pudding to those hungry enough. After a rest nearly as long as a hash we then climbed ever upward through Becky Addy Wood and past a hill-top Westwood Nursery, finding our way onward with a green arrow as you do. Lactic acid was really starting to make its presence felt as we reached pub stop 4 – The New Inn near Westwood Manor – and after a brief struggle to find any member of staff we all piled in to give our batteries one last recharge. Apparently at this point I fell asleep during the daytime for only the 3rd time since I was 4 years old – well, if I did then I dreamt that we proceeded in the direction of Westwood Manor, and then I had a horrific nightmare that I missed the chance of getting an early lift back to the campsite with Coppertone. Reality had to kick in somehow – there was even a fish hook for 2 in the On In that snared 3 front runners thanks to hand holding. To all those feeling like they had ran a marathon, your second challenge is to read this write-up.
CIRCLE: Back among the tents and with a helicopter lurking overhead (probably a BBC Eye In The Sky with nothing better to report), Brigadoon chivalrously came armed with presents to suit most of the supposed offences – fish hook skippers Duracell and Mrs Doubtfire were treated to a skipping rope, emergency chauffeur Coppertone received a presumably fake 999 kit, a dirt buster went the way of Fondue/Fondle/Invent Your Own Name for donning plastic bag footwear, and detective 'taches were presented to offence spies Walky Talky, Cowslip and Skid Mark. Oh, and this writeup was recorded on Brigadoon's scribe pad present to me last night, thus cementing his place in my good books. Time now then for the real criminals – last night's rat-arsed Flour Power, Rebore the fancy Lundi hash drinker and Woodcut the drink spiller from last night. A toast with cake too for upcoming birthday gals Kerb Crawler and Limpet, not intended though to overshadow the welcoming of 6 bogs virgins – Buzby and Fu Manchu from the ISCA hash, Public Enemy from Kennet & Avon, plus Toad and Dragon who still resembled as esteemed a pair of hashers as I have ever seen. A trio of new names to round the day off – Mrs Happy Hooker is now Fair Weather because it follows her everywhere, Woodcut had the prefix “Halfcut” added to his name and Oscar was named Dyson for his dogged determination to hoover up food. Three words – examplary.
ON ON ON: In the evening we managed to fit in a light-ish bite of pork and halloumi from the grill with sufficient veg to meet our 5 a day. Got us right in the mood for Bag Lady's much anticipated “Who Am I?” game, it did, plus a quiz with sections about Bogs (specialist subject) and hashing itself (general knowledge). I was ashamed of my score – just 1 year in which to improve, then. On On for Sunday's warm down.
Run number 321, 7th September 2012.

WHERE:
Stowford Manor Farm, Wingfield, Wiltshire - ASS Hash Run 1!
HARES: Brigadoon and Ballsport.
WHO: 42 happy campers and 3 happy hounds.
RUN REPORT: After all of the justified hype about our ASS, here we were pitching tents and camper vans by the family load in readiness for our early evening hash to and from the nearby Hungerford Arms. Not before a little acquainting ourselves with the aquatic farm facilities, of course. Quite necessary was the warmup, since we were devoid of sunshine (though not yet daylight) as we circled up. We immediately crossed the border into Somerset via the farm's appendix, snaking our way through very long grass as Limpet regaled us of stories of swimming in the adjacent river in years gone by (some bogs had repeated this trick an hour or so previously). Very touching indeed, especially for the hounds who needed a proverbial lift over a very nettly stile or two. The very aptly named River Bridge and Mill Stream Bridge were then crossed in quick succession in preparation for an ascent past Farleigh Hungerford Castle (a name intended to make a scribe hungry). We then saw an arrow on the ground, albeit not one fired from an archer on the castle battlements, but instead daubed in flour by Sir Brigadoon out to beat his seemingly immaculate performance as last year's ASS master. It wasn't a fast forward arrow, though, since we had to trundle over a few speed bumps on our way past Farleigh House (yonder sprinklers were set to geyser strength for good measure). The BRBs (all 10 of them) found themselves in a spot of bother as they entered pastures brand new, but had the courtesy to finish the job of field ploughing for the farmer as they heard distant runners' cries of “On On”. And yet the deception of this opening ASS trail was not over yet, for another rallying cry was necessary to retrieve a quintet of AWOLs without a turnback, albeit into a very “spiky” field that featured at least 9 corner cutters as we approached the main road. A real dare ‘n' do was the On In to the pub as well, with a huddled pack using whatever verge existed while the headlights blazed past (“ka-car!” everyone would scream), but we found the Hungerford Arms all alive and well, with the runners already having downed half their drinks. Now, where had my hunger got to?
CIRCLE: Any circling/naming and shaming will have taken place after the departure of the early nighters, of which I was one. However there was still plenty of On On On drama to behold:
ON ON ON: Another hash, another successful takeover bid of a pub from its locals by bogs. Cheese and ham sarnies and a mound-not-quite-mountain of sausages and chips fed us well, in readiness for a quick march back to the campsite in different groups at different times. All groups, though, were all too familiar with the morbid question lingering over us as our first night drew in - would Brigadoon's mobile phone live to tell the tale after being dropped setting the trail? Tune in next time to find out! (roll credits).
Run number 320, 5th September 2012.

WHERE:
The Rudgleigh, Easton-in-Gordano.
HARES: Inchworm and Backchat.
WHO: 21 hashers, 3 hounds and 1 latecomer.
RUN REPORT: A thoroughly enjoyable warmup for the forthcoming ASS weekend; testimony to the hare's abilities was that this was a re-re-routed location, with the stakes further upped by being laid in wholemeal flour. We greatly shortened our warmup so as to get away from the carnivorous insects in the car park, choosing instead the open pasture beyond the neighbouring cricket field for our On Out. Once the runners had performed a home run, we found ourselves near one of our favourite adventure playgrounds (zip wire, swing and all) but tonight we gave it a miss in favour of a hike past a chugging combine harvester and 2012's first genuine batch of blackberries. With the sun already pooling into the nearby Avon River we emerged into one of Pill's many back streets before regrouping outside its fire station. While waiting for the back runners we found some, and I quote - “Hot and Tasty Chicken and Fries” in a salt pot, albeit in wrapper form (we like to call them “chips” anyway). Uphill we went with this new appetite in search of some genuine edibles, but first we had to break out fellowship again – the runners paid a visit to Ham Green and neighbouring rival pub The Anchor, while the walkers were faced with the misfortune/delight of briefly continuing uphill. We rendezvoused atop one of our favourite mounds with a view (Smacker and Limpet admiring the view of the Avon Bridge from a seated position) and chewed our way through many a wine gum, making us ready if not steady for runners' and walkers' separate descents down to Pill Harbour. Once there with zero falls we joined the River Avon Trail and posed with a view of the harbour and a biscuit-rather-than-beer stop, ginger and mint being the sating flavours. We also snapped up the chance of some photo ops while heading towards the bridge, with the runners soon after leaving the walkers to the task of slowing down some bikers. In fact, pretty much everyone then slowed to a sedate pace since we were now in a maze of neighbourhoods – it was a no cold calling zone, so a member of the public pitched their advice to us instead (“there's a dead end up there!”). We finished with quite a bang, though – an eerie tunnel through some trees (it probably looks less spooky at sunrise) preceded a duet of runners' loops through an army of nettles, and just when we thought we would never see daylight again, street lights appeared in the distance and so we tumbled towards them. 1 hour and 20 minutes I made it – bring on the ASS!
CIRCLE: She of a century of names (Fondue/possibly now Fondle) inherited the toga to commemorate just as many bogs runs, while Karen was named Misapp for technological (but definitely not neurological) problems in finding a previous venue. My advice would be to take a satnav on the trail – for on the hash, you're MEANT to be sent down blind alleys.
ON ON ON: Skittles duty called for me, but the hares prophesied the imminent arrival of chips and multiple filling sarnies to consume – again an undoubted warmup for our ASS feast. See you there!
Run number 319, 29th August 2012.

WHERE:
The Old Inn, Paul's Causeway, Congresbury.
HARE: DT and Swallow.
WHO: About 21 hashers and one hash hound.
RUN REPORT by this week's Scribe, Callgirl: Hashers did a quick hokey cokey to warm up and wandered off enthusiastically to find the first flour. The hare had braved the monsoon to lay a trail; some grotty looking pastry was all that was left. Hashers got off lightly to start with, dry pavements but then soon sank into swamps, bogs and lakes. Tumbling Ted and Hare Net weren't fazed having recently circumnavigated ice-cubes and fought polar bears with their bare hands. Swallow trundled along at a fair pace complete with new bionic hip. Limpet was tempted to do a fast crawl across the Olympic sized pools, but joined the runners in a light trot; Ball sport and Brigs plotted secretively about the upcoming ASS Hash.
CIRCLE: Inside the pub we sang to Virgin Toy Boy who gave a good account of himself and Rebore and Limpet who have broken the world record for zillions of consecutive hashes. Eager turned up after rally car racing, in his centurion regalia.
ON INN: Friendly, cosy pub, chips and sandwiches.
Bogs go to the Lundy Hash. August Bank Holiday, 2012.

Walrus arrived first on Friday with Call Girl, then Back Chat, Inch Worm, Brigadoon, Limpet, Rebore and Fondle, Coppertone and Bag Lady, Cinders, Kerb Crawler and Walkie Talkie all parked up, plus Cultural Attaché, daughter Hannah, Singapore Sling and Waynetta all turning up later, plus about a hundred more hashers all known personally by Rebore.

Tents up, sitting out in the sun shine, quaffing free beer and wearing the Lundy Hash team shirt, sun shining, Coppertone soon slipped into his usual weekend mode.

The first hash on Friday evening lasted just 800 yards to take us straight into the first pub before sampling the remaining alehouses in town, with Bag Lady in front, keen to try as many as the night would allow. Brigadoon, overkeen to partake the wet side of hashing, initially mistook a funeral parlour for the first pub. Having got his eye in, he then excelled on this hash as did Cinders, who was following doctor's orders to wash out the poison in his hand injury. Loud snoring later and some severe headaches next day.

Bright and early- some – breakfasted in the rugby clubhouse on a first class English fry up plus healthy options for those who like that sort of thing. The on on started promptly at 11to 11.30 am and the hash were treated to a trail taking them up out of town and down to the beach. Westwood Ho! was wild, Atlantic rollers heaving in, runners and walkers stopped off at pubs and cafes along the way. A local dog walker with a magnifying glass ticked off Rebore, for exposing himself. She suggested there was a public convenience round the corner, but Cultural Attaché pointed out it wouldn't stretch that far.

Arriving in Appledore, the hashers were greeted by a wondrous beer stop involving a car with a whole barrel of beer, quiches, sausage rolls, tortillas and dips… and Brigadoon, well- oiled after arriving early with the walkers and finding nothing to do, made up his own down downs. Refreshed hashers set off again, only to find the end of the run 400m further with a choice of two hostelries, Hashers were told to make their own way back, walking along by the riverbanks into Bideford. A quick wash and brush up before a stunning tea served up in the clubhouse, many hot choices available, each as scrummy as each other, as Fondue can vouch.

Brigadoon went off and forgot to stay awake, wasn't seen again until the morning, apparently catching 10hrs of straight zeds.

Up with the lark, hashers dressed as pirates, ran for the coaches, Limpet rounding up Rebore who'd wandered off. On the coach, Fondle asked Brig to holding her peaches and he offered his Hobnob in return. It was only 8am, so the day was starting well.

Jumping aboard the HMS Oldenburgh at Ilfracombe, hashers took up their positions, some turning green, some chundering, some drinking, Backchat sat up top and held on to her breakfast. Hannah, a whiter shade of pale, sat below and held on to hers.

Reaching shore, Limpet was first into the sea, Brigs joining in for a quick swim. After only a short pause for the hares to lay an epic trail the hashers were off, short and long choices available. Inch worm strode out across the island leading the hash.

The Marisco Inn offered lashings of beer, meals and snacks. The Down Downs were funny, slurred and filthy!

All too soon the time came for a return to the ship, but not before a chunky dunking for Brigs plus many other bare and naked ladies. Walrus donned his racing hat, to save his hair from getting wet. Father Abraham was sung loudly for all to hear, around the bay, Briggs held his shorts up for a rinse and men ran up the beach, grey seals swam up close then away again quickly.

Seas had calmed for the return trip, the seals lay watching on the rocks, ensuring we left the island; hashers slept, drank or sang, hardened sailors blushed. After watching women's boxing on the Olympics recently, Limpet was in fine form and wrestled Swiss Tony to the deck; it was touch and go who was going to end up overboard.

Coaches emptied out bedraggled pirates, who collapsed in the club house over fresh beer and specially delivered takeaways; Walkie Talkie demoed how she keeps her tops up with a bit of sticky, Call Girl thrashed Walrus at Pigs, (yes Walrus lost!) Waynetta offered promises for free grub.

Monday turned rainy as hashers woke up and dragged themselves into the club house for yet another 5 * breakfast. Tents were rolled up in the mud and put away, some drove to Instow where the rain clouds cleared and the hangover hash was run. Farewells made, happy hashers departed Devon and returned to all parts of the universe.

A fantastic weekend, hares and hashes, rugby club shower blocks (no rugby players in them, mind, lady hashers, if you're planning to book next time) beer, food and friendly locals in the club house, what's not to like?

Call Girl.


Run number 318, 22nd August 2012.

HARES: Walky Talky and Cinderella.
WHO: 28 hashers, 4 hounds & 1 very latecomer.
RUN REPORT: 2 thumbs up. What wondrous sights Burrington Combe possesses are no longer concealed from the Bogs of Somerset. To warm up with on a suitably sunny evening, the hares reiterated that tonight's was a “dogs close by on leads” hash and that we may just be back in time for dark, all to the tune of Father Abraham. Right from the off there was a taste as to why hounds were tethered - the welcome return of T5 pointed us all away from the winding B3134 and towards the toilets that nobody needed - these were to be the point of no return. For here, towering before our gaping jaws stood what must be Bogs' biggest ever ascent up to the top of the Combe. Most of us stumbled and swore our way up this natural monolith in first gear, even if junior virgin Jack showed most of us up by sprinting to the top and then peering over the precipice. Everyone else at this stage was tucking in to a very early (and necessary) jelly baby stop, cursing only the absence of photographer Happy Hooker on a trail tailor made for his talents. A driving march through the thick bracken then beckoned if you were a runner, albeit as a 0.5 minute departure from the walkers, and then as we emerged onto the open expanse of the Combe we caught the view of another viewpoint yonder. This time we posed atop Long Rock (identified by Google Maps) which was probably a distant cousin of its namesake in Gibraltar (shape was the same if not the size) and managed to catch a distant glimpse of Blagdon Lake (Coppertone provided the geographical nous here, again thank you to Google Maps for backing him up). We also at this point found ourselves in amongst the rare hashers' luxury of a 5 ways - naturally the correct path had to be the only one heading uphill. Everyone trusted Cinderella that there was a sheer drop to our right , particularly the walkers who branched off to the left while the runners took to hurdling over some lapine holes. After arguing at a checkpoint or 5 we then entered some trees every bit as daunting as Mirkwood - at this point it was hard to imagine how we were going to head back up to the Inn, but we aim to thrill. Just after reaching a man-made surface underfoot for the first time, the runners again took to a high speed pursuit through Lower Elwick Wood and emerged in sight of The Plume of Feathers Bed & Breakfast - we needed neither so up and downhill we continued in search of the walking fraternity. The sun was just kissing us goodnight as the speeds reconvened at a beer stop in Burrington Village (a playground affixed for good measure) - just in time too for a puffing and panting Rocky Horror to catch us up, claiming he had given us a half hour head start. Thankfully, his handle does not reflect what happened on this trail.
CIRCLE: Combined with the beer stop as is becoming increasingly popular - the hares were asked to explain the lack of promised wild animals, though Bogs are pretty wild and territorial as it is. Junior Virgin Jack earned plaudits aplenty for sticking mostly to runners' routes, an enthusiasm clearly inherited from Irish Spu. Another Bogs virgin was the Singapore Sunday hasher Kannot Kan - he made himself come and I think he was impressed with Bogs' professionalism. The eagerness of a certain beaver was finally rewarded with the centurion's toga, downed with peach nectar as the beer stop's novelty drink, while the over-eagerness of Rocky Horror to catch up was punished (he ran the walkers' route, horror of horrors). Fellow criminals included the short-cutting Brigadoon and Call Girl plus several sitters who wouldn't stand still long enough for me to name and shame ‘em. Last and probably not least, welcome returns were paid for Deep Throat, Batty, Clanger and Pork Scratchings. We spent the final stretch like rabbits in the headlights along and up the B3134, but Deep Throat had come equipped with front and rear lights - always thinking of everything....
ON ON ON: Very well catered for hill walkers is the Burrington Inn - well enough for the healing Down & Dirty to pay us a visit. Everyone resisted the Mississippi Mudpie on display and instead opted for a nice selection of rolls in the cosy main lounge. Cheese, ham, pickle - you name it, we scoffed it. Roll on the imminent dark season.
Run number 317, 15th August 2012.

WHERE:
Contractors' Car Park, Kent Avenue, West Wick, retiring later to Fondue's abode.
HARES: Fondue & Up Yours.
WHO: 26.5 hashers (read on to see why), 3 hounds and 1 latecomer.
RUN REPORT: On this freshly hydrated trail around a very flat West Wick (the hares had been out setting it in a downpour) we found slugs to be more common than shiggy, even if we more than matched them for pace. Several locals - old, young and toddling - looked on in bewilderment as we On Outed, with Walky Talky playing catchup. A chance to do just that was offered as we encountered a hook for 8 while passing by what appeared to be a children's wrestling match on the green, abetted by an imminent runners' loop. Remaining on a flat, we then took the plunge into the rural surroundings of Locking Head Drove - to the left we had some adorable equines and to the right some slightly less adorable bovines, and even the chance to get down to some early blackberry picking for 2012 (see - the jet stream's not so useless after all). When we at last reached a junction at the end the hares decided to lay an impromptu fish hook for 10 to keep the pack in track - although we were just outside Locking Head Farm, this dastardly trick thankfully lead to no locking of horns. Next up came a dare and dash across the ever busy A370, though this really was the calm before the storm. First the runners cantered alongside the A370 and opted for a longwinded pace along Longridge Way, but then semi calamity struck at another walker runner split, at least if you were the BRBs. After several choruses of “that way”, “no this way” and “no, the walkers went that way!”, the very pleasant sight of scouting hare Up Yours greeted us, if not with very pleasant news. Poor Down & Dirty, out not be made a back-running fool on this trail, had taken a nasty turn without tumbling - the injuries where nothing appears to happen are usually the bad ones. As if the possibility of being out of hashing action for several weeks were not bad enough, missing a sweet stop that was just round the corner really took the biscuit...sorry, Jelly Baby and Rowntrees Random. No doubt spurred on to do the best for the temporarily departed, the pack resumed like a team possessed - Brigadoon manned the taxi back to base for Down and Dirty, the sight of a multicoloured tile subway were given their due, and Rewind led the sole charge up to a slightly-distant obelisk while everyone else was devouring the beer stop. Fondue excels at these - the by now mandatory maple and pecan cakes lasted no time at all, the sponge cake likewise, and the grapes, apple juice, cider and elderflower juice were not far behind. Scot Elm Drive provided us with the flat On In we had come to expect - strangely for people parked in a contractor's car park, we actually arrived back when we said we would...
CIRCLE: Welcome to virgin Linda from Bristol plus hello to a hatful of returnees - Mrs Doubtfire, Smacker, Up Yours and Irish Spew on the day he reached double figures. Apparently Call Girl is going to get one year younger tomorrow; her hashing performances certainly suggest this is the case.
ON ON ON: Who needs a pub?! Pushup's abode was no squeeze even for 27 of us and with the perfectly timed rain trying to force us back under cover. Brigadoon manned the BBQ and endeared several of us to quorn in the process, but no endearing was needed for Fondue's fruity Pavlova - the only question is what does she do with all the leftover yolks. Next week's hash from the Burrington Inn is strictly a hounds-on-leads-hash, though we all know which species does the most pulling. On Up!
Run 316, August 8th 2012.

WHERE:
The Salthouse, Clevedon.
HARES: Walrus and Call Girl.
WHO: 27 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: This time Woodcut's swansong was for real, and thankfully very few of the throng present had forgotten the words to the German Hoki-Coki which we had prepared so diligently for. After this physical and vocal warmup, the hares described this trail as “short...sorry, long” and so on we outed straight into a debate about whether we were paying our neighbouring regular Poet's Walk a visit. Naturally we were, but first came a daring tread along the marine lake walkway (unless you were Mr & Mrs Happy Hooker) plus some partially washed out arrows – never hindered us in the past, have they? The consensus for about a minute was that we were taking the shorter route around Clevedon's poetic pleasure, but instead an arrow coupled with some loud (and incessant!) bell tolling pointed us back up and briefly through the graveyard, mostly with respect. Shortly further along, Coppertone appeared having made a Herculean effort to set his own On Out up to here. Nobody appeared to take the runners' route ahead – a shame for some walkers as we then found ourselves faced with an undoubted “Rambo Route” through the foliage to our left. Thankfully we had no wounds to lick once we emerged from a maze of nettles, low branches and sporadic flour blobs – a particular pleasure since we were now due to pay our umpteenth visit to Clevedon Pill. Before we could once again learn all of the birds' names from yonder notice board, we briskly branched off towards the distant riverbank and followed it for 2000 feet, or so Google Maps tells me. Junior Rebecca (on her swansong, just to rub it in) learned the hard way what doc leaves can do from Bag Lady, but lost none of her or the pack's enthusiasm in ascending towards the same view point as run 269 (incidentally also a Walrus and Call Girl hare-raiser). Here we munched on fruit pastilles and took photos of the departing Woodcut and Rebecca, plus a very apt one of the entire throng posing in front of a “No Dumping of Rubbish!” sign. The runners were then given a taste of 3 fish hooks prior to a walkers' reconvene, but slowed down not one jot as we headed past the Community Centre gardens towards Clevedon's Six Ways – the third way of six was chosen after some discussion, and soon after the runners found they still had the legs to circumnavigate a few buildings before the beer stop beckoned. Actually it was branded a “raspberry stop” despite consisting of grapes and the usual drinks, and took place outside the partly-bogs-managed book shop in Copse Road. Once we felt fully versed in the magic of reading, we were due for a long On In once again across Clevedon's sunset-swathed promenade. There remained time however for a photo stop right in front of Wales and for Cowslip to invent her own runners' route around some flower beds, and even for Down and Dirty to join up with the throng for the final furlong. A hash you did not want to end, yet squeezed into all of 90 minutes.
CIRCLE: Dungeon Dragons joined us to toast a warm welcome to virgin Steve from Bristol (Rebore had told him hashing is good, even if tonight he was a rare absentee), plus centurion Ballsport and Inchworm for doing more trails than a statistician could count. Welcome returns too for Mrs Happy Hooker (still handle-less as of 7 runs), Big Stick and Rampant Rabbit. Keep 'em coming!
ON ON ON: While we fed outdoors on several trays of brown and white sarnies (ham, tomato, cheese and tuna among the fillings), hundreds of insects decided to feed on us – water off a duck's back to a hasher of course, particularly as Clevedon Beach was such a twilight delight.
Run number 315, August 1st 2012.

WHERE:
Gordano Rugby Club, Caswell Lane, Portbury, BS20 7UF.
HARE: Eager Beaver.
WHO: 4 hounds and plenty of hashers.
RUN REPORT: On-out along Caswell Lane we soon encountered an Olympic check that took us up into Priors Wood the haunt of many a Bluebell run. there were Olympic checks a plenty to keep the front runners on their toes and going for gold After one check the trail it seemed could not be found Rewind was out-standing in his field and TT came back from the other direction saying it's not that way there's no flour up there nothing but a regroup It was then through a campsite at the Downs School to cheers and applause from the campers a couple of fields later we stopped for a well earned beverage break where a conveniently placed tree swing tempted some of the more adventurous A field of long wet grass took us to Mill Close then on to Mill Lane (wonder if there used to be a mill here) It was then up or down (not quite sure which) the High Street and Back to Caswell Lane.
CIRCLE: 25 runs for Cowslip.
ON ON ON: crisps sandwiches & chips all round As I wasn't driving I had by this time consumed enough alcohol to ensure that the whole run report would have to be a work of pure fiction.
Run number 314, July 28th 2012.

WHERE:
The Woodborough, Winscombe.
HARE: Hare Net and Tumbling Ted.
WHO: About 17 medium rare hashers and 4 hot dogs.
RUN REPORT by this week's scribe, Callgirl: Now that the jet stream lay due north of Limpit's house, hot weather had at last arrived. After simmering all day, hashers came to the boil and a reduced pack set off from the pub and along the footpaths surrounding lovely Winscombe. Donkeys were viewed at the VD stop and everyone had a scratch. The moon appeared earlier than expected, but no, it was only Flour Power taking a leak. Walrus stained his shorts. Walkie Talkie got heat stroke and did the runners loop at the end. Lots of flour and well planned walkers and runners splits to keep everyone happy.
ON IN: Large pub with mountains of chips and sandwiches. Happy Hooker, Flour Power and Patricia had already evaporated but luckily, Smacker and Eager bubbled up late to help out. Rocky gave out a few sandwiches to pretend friends, but still there were lots left over for lunch boxes the next day.
Run number 313, July 21st 2012.
WHERE:
Avon Way Car Park, Portishead, through to Blackdown Road.
HARES: Junior Rebecca, ably assisted by the invisible Deep Throat.
WHO: 14 hashers, 1 hound and 2 latecomers.
RUN REPORT: Wow! Sun! Wow - a junior hasher pulling the floury strings like a pro specially for Woodcut's hare swansong. With no need to warm up now that the real summer had arrived, we duly headed downhill and straight into a false - little wonder then that our junior hare had waited at the back for us. At the far end of yonder Channel View Road we stopped to take in a.....view of the channel, plus to absorb the news that Call Girl and Walrus were hot on our tails. So unsettled was our level of concentration that a T3 was then approached from the wrong direction by most, thankfully on a day where only refusing the mountain of BBQ food on offer would be considered a crime. After rolling down the steps (or the grassy knoll if you were Rebore) we regrouped to the tune of some nice crispy Braeburns and the supplement of Walrus and Call Girl. A couple of FRB errors later and we were left to hash up a dead end for vehicles only, and then we United and Reformed next to namesake Church. Sole hound Daisy appeared uninterested in Joe Public's decomposing sweets on the floor, so on we went in search of some nicer grub. ‘Twere not long in coming - after ambling along with a fish hook for 2 towards the coastal Eastwood & Battery Point we then headed past some delightful aquatic graffiti and into Rebecca's Schogetten chocolate stop (white and dark). After taking in a lovely view of the dirty Severn channel and most of South Wales, we sped along to the paths around the marine lake (appropriately there was a fish hook baited for 2 frontrunners) and somehow we managed to find a path through the hordes of sunseekers all the way along to a Beach Road West regroup. All assembled, Brigadoon helpfully declared “check it out, in that direction”. Normally this would have led to everyone going a different way, but the fact that Rebecca marked the same way with flour and also headed along it lent credibility to his argument - on towards the Windmill Inn it was, then. There used to be a wonderfully scenic 9-hole golf course entitled “The Hole In One” next to the Windmill in years gone by, but now it is merely a hasher's dream - a slight uphill with a sea view and long grass aplenty to hurdle through. For a nice wind down of an On In we firstly ascended Raleigh Rise and then marched up the VIP-esque Admirals Walk to said symbol. Across the neighbouring football pitch we saw late-latecomer Bag Lady had ever so helpfully transformed herself into the finishing line. Time then to see if that Schogetten could be bettered...
CIRCLE: If any naming and shaming did take place it was after I had finished my 4 plates of grub and left; read on...
ON ON ON/BBQ: We had been warned of plenty of non hashers' likely arrival - all that means though is more grub and the chance to promote hashing to the community. In fact, non hashers eventually outnumbers hashers about 2 to 1, and the culinary highlights included another helping of Woodcut's pasta salad, Brigadoon serving up his usual standard of meat-feast mastery, more forest fruity pavlova, and face-painted kids you could just eat alive! A fond farewell to Woodcut and family - your standard of haring, trailblazing (and hosting!) definitely made the cut.
Run 312, July 18th 2012.
WHERE:
Campbell's Landing, Clevedon.
HARE: Pushup.
WHO: 25 hashers and 5 hounds.
RUN REPORT: A real hook, line and sink 'em hash. Some feared, others craved a repeat of Pushup's last marathon hash from Campbell's Landing, but none could be disappointed at how this evening went. After daring to warm up on Beach Road at high-ish tide, we set off along the promenade and immediately detected a bias in place against FRBs – first there was surely the earliest ever fish hook for 11 outside the sailing club, then a namesake for 15 at the bandstand – motivation enough for Cinderella and Rewind to take the long cut around the neighbouring flower beds. A viewpoint near the Little Harp then went largely unnoticed, probably because we were too busy trying to find the right way ahead. As it was, we happened upon an “On In Later Only” symbol en route to Poet's Walk (in fact the runners went past it twice, owing to their circumnavigation of Salthouse Field), as well as a by now-inevitable fish hook for 6. A real viewpoint was then observed on the way up Poet's Walk, even if the rarity of a walkers' route fish hook for 8 was rebelled against. Ascending further, the runners took to the remaining dizzy heights and felt the wrath of plenty of ocean spray while the walkers located and then sheltered near Clevedon Pill – several runners had to apply the handbrake since the walkers had formed a crash barrier. After admiring the still raging tide at viewpoint number 3, we then On-Onned through further fish hooks for 5 and 10 (Rewind tried unsuccessfully to hide the latter with grass) and happened upon a beer stop with no beer bag Not until we ambled along the river bank and bumped into Henry the beer bag courier, anyway. Quite a blessing actually, since there was much less sea spray here than at the intended beer stop, thus adding to our enjoyment of clementines, cucumbers, chocolate digestives, miniature colas, a hybrid of Werthers Originals, tangy apple loops and of course scrumptious cider. We then turned back towards the Pill (Eager Beaver rescuing those who strayed towards the golf course) and after the rare (for this evening) luxury of grass underfoot there came another of those fishy symbols, this time for 5 FRBs before a final regroup. Skirting Salthouse Field then bought us to the On In symbol now for use in earnest back along the promenade, with the sea still choppy for good measure. Very well planned Pushup, if not very well obeyed – read on...
CIRCLE: Walkers obviously need to be stretched more often – 8 of them had disobeyed the hook leading up Poet's Walk. The so far handle-less Karen appeared at the circle a few seconds too late, while Dungeon Dragons learned that hatting in the circle BEFORE Down Down equals impunity, though falsely accusing Call Girl and Inchworm does not (note to self – keep quiet in the circle and you'll do fine). A hashy birthday tomorrow too for Walrus, coupled with a welcome return for Saturday's hare Woodcut. Let's hope it's as superb as his last offering with junior hares in tow.
ON ON ON: Assumed absentees Brigadoon and Ballsport had helpfully cleared the pub for us and even left a fine collection of brown and white meaty, cheesy and eggy sandwiches as yet untouched, coupled with a customary tray of chips. Can't for the life of me think why this place keeps closing down.
Run number 311, 11th July 2012.


WHERE:
The Sidcot Arms, Bridgwater Road, Winscombe.
HARE: Eager Beaver abley assisted by Down and Dirty (missing in action and fat foot up above head now hopefully) WHO: 27 or so hashers and 2 hash hounds.
RUN REPORT by this week's Scribe, Call Girl: After being helpfully directed to the car park by Eager, we were left to our own devices, so set off checking along the busy A38. Within minutes a route into base camp was found. Rewind, ex lumber jack and he's ok, did a bit of tree surgery, whilst walkers and runners split for a loop. Hares teased our ham strings by leading us down and around Crooks Peak, but enjoying magnificent views en route. Pushup decided to go horizontal for a moment, perhaps checking the sky for raindrops falling on her head. Ain't no mountain high enough to keep the hashers away, but definitely short of breath, and at last hashers reached the top and they had to stop. After a run down through King John's wood, passing the dew pond we arrived safely at a car park. It was a party atmosphere, food galore was found in the boot of Eager's car, sausages, rolls, cakes, fruit and lashing of beer, cider and juice, enough for all night long. A short skip and a hop back up the road and we were in the pub moaning again as usual for drinks and a sit down.
CIRCLE: Two young men from afar were welcomed to the hash. Tshirts were awarded for big numbers of runs and hash setting. Rebore offered another chance to canoodle with him later in the year.
ON INN: Large pub, no food for hash as too complicated, Butcombe there one minute then gone again next. Another excellent evening's activities Eager, well done!


Run number 310, July 4th 2012.
WHERE:
The Phoenix Bar, Portishead.
HARE: Flour Power.
WHO: Approx. 25 hashers and 4 hounds – later supplemented by 3 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: Brought to you advertisement-free by Eager Beaver Associates it's the report of hash run 310 from over the pond here in cloudy Portishead, England. Dozens of budding walker and runner folk had gathered to pay their own respects to America's Independence Day. Some were nicely dressed up in pretty colors for the occasion, but not a single cheerleader or monster truck to be seen – is this what they call entertainment in Britain? The trail started with an explanation of something called “runner fish hooks” where any familiar “R” symbol meant the faster people had to go to the back – a great novelty, and it happened often. After passing by the local leisure centre everyone then had to climb up a very steep, muddy bank to cross the road (some needed a helping hand or 10), and then the runners got a taste of freedom as they charged to the top of a big pitcher's mound – they could even see the walkers idling along in the distance. Back down on home turf, it was time for everyone to take to a riverside and taste plenty of those yummy runners' fish hooks I mentioned – one unidentified flying hasher was moved enough to retire to the bar very early. After reconvening in amongst some stakes/wooden fingers (unless you were a plodding Down & Dirty) the hare's humble abode with tagged-on beer stop beckoned. Everyone had a fair enough share of cider, apple and orange juice, with the hounds happy enough with mere H2O in a bowl. Upon hearing of an imminent trek out to Portbury Wharf, Down & Dirty retired back from whence we came – particularly wise since a strong smell of sewage had to be withstood up ahead along with several slips and slides. Back amongst the views of the River Avon and the runner fish hooks, Rampant Rabbit started to show her true colours with a commendable obedience for each and every one, even when we reached the slightly posh rear-end of Portbury via a skirting of what must be Britain's biggest derelict car park. The “back of the pack” started to feel a little lonely here and prayed in unison for some candy – when they reached said stop they found it crossed out with the words ”Gone To Pub” - Kerb Crawler however appeared with some zesty goodies by the name of Fizzicle Haribos – even for British candy, this hit one taste bud too many. However, the smell of one food popular the world over – pizza – soon hit the back-runners' nostrils and so a charging On In to the Phoenix Inn it was. For all the divided opinion of this being a marathon trail, 1 hour 45 minutes was the total time; I'm sure everyone's done longer.
CIRCLE: No due process or fair trials here, just an indoor ignominy for EVERYONE present – for taking short cuts, ignoring the candy stop and ignoring the runners' fish hooks – what goddamn dweeb was in charge here?
ON ON ON: The party numbers swelled to incorporate Mr and Mrs Happy Hooker, Coppertone, Oscar the hound and Deep Throat, and our stomachs swelled to the tune of three pizza perfectos, Wotsits, cake from Rampant Rabbit, pretzels, potato chips and nuts – but no French Fries! There'd better be some to go at the next hash at Priddy this Sunday. Hope y'all had a great time – Bogs of Somerset Hash Reports will be right back, after these messages...
Run number 309, June 30th 2012.

WHERE:
National Trust Car Park, Sand Bay.
HARES: Smacker and Dungeon Dragons.
WHO: 4 hounds and 14 hashers, ballooning to 16 for the BBQ.
RUN REPORT: A good enough turnout for a Saturday stroll followed by a bring and share BBQ, hared and catered for at Dungeon Dragon's and Smacker's usual soaring standard. The warmup was substituted in favour of a mere stroll up the steps-turned-slope while brushing aside Joe Public. Upon reaching the summit the back-marking Down & Dirty received all but a medal for her efforts; most of the throng had by this stage hashed out to the bow of the land and admired the clear as glass views of Steep and Flat Holm. At the next junction of very few we bore left and reconvened with Down & Dirty and her aide Smacker who had taken an excusable short cut for the weary legged. Thus they were still allowed their pick and share of the fruit jellies and Cadbury everythings that were passed out at a beachside sweet stop. The extra fuel imminently propelled nearly half the pack up a hill away from the official route and down the other side – the rebels/fun lovers being Brigadoon, Pushup, Rewind, Woodcut, Skidmark and Basil the hound. Also branching off presently were the hares to fetch the beer bag, choosing to fill us up with apple juice and cider next to the ruins of Hebron Cottage (look in your Sand Bay history annals, if any exist). A hasty pace was then suggested on the basis of some very black clouds being seen in the distance, even if the sea breeze was blowing the opposite way, and so back along a wind tunnel we headed, calling back a couple of FRBs and avoiding a prowling tractor en route to the other steps down to civilisation. Ever the forward thinker, Brigadoon was already there and lighting up...
CIRCLE: The barbecue took precedence over any one-sided shape, and so the fall guys and gals and shortcutters throughout arrived back at the car park with apparent impunity.
ON ON ON/BBQ: Time for the weather to play its customary tricks. While meeting our 5-a-day meat and cake totals we made good use of first the shade and then a well-constructed gazebo as the heavens opened and closed at will. Among the culinary highlights were Woodcut's mountain/big tub of pasta salad, marshmallows by the bucketload and a mountain of sausages, but perhaps the biggest plaudits went to Fondue, whose layered cake contained everything but cheese and was promptly devoured 4 corners and all. Rebore and Limpet arrived in time for the scraps plus their own contributions (of which the highest calibre was venison); they might have gone on to run the trail themselves after the barbecue, but I left too soon to find out. Next week we have Flour Power's American-themed hash for Independence Day – Oh, Gee Whiz!
Run No: 308, 27th June 2012.

WHERE:
The Brent Knoll Inn.
HARES: WHO: 22 to start with and several more later, plus hash hounds.
RUN REPORT: written by this week's Scribe, Call Girl: Never Enough and Brigadoon started the evening off with a few ciders, before DT called us all together for the penguin dance, (hoping to get on Strictly next year DT? No Chance.) Once the bare faced lying was over from the hares, (no shiggy, no fishhooks, clean trainers swapped for muddy boots round the back) hashers headed out for the motorway, thinking this was to be another straight up to Portishead and back evening. Strangely it wasn't, and after wading through a quagmire, Rewind found the cross country route to the north face of the Knoll. FRBs had been left many fishhooks, so walkers were constantly bothered with sweaty runners getting in their way. Rampant Rabbit kept going up and down, closely followed by Spotted Dick. Reaching the top, sweeties were handed out to anyone still breathing. A quick once around the summit and then the final descent, with even more fishhooks, Rocky Horror got caught and complained ever so nicely. In a magical wood the Beer Stop appeared, along with latecomers Kerb Crawler and Cinders, arriving through the trees having hashed back from Bulgaria, always an excuse!
CIRCLE: Virgins Karen and Richard were welcomed to the hash, we hope you come along again.
ON IN: Lovely country pub, many sat outside in the garden to be nibbled by midges whilst others stood in the skittles alley and shouted loudly at each other. Some lovely sandwiches, but you had to be very quick or have sharp elbows!
Run 307, 20th June 2012.

WHERE:
The Pelican, Chew Magna.
HARES: Brigadoon & Fat Controller.
WHO: Guesstimate 38 hashers (26 of whom were Bogs) and 6 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Another rendezvous with the Kennet & Avoners, another trail with a throng that turned into a bit of a basket case. After introducing our friend Father Abraham to the warming up K&As, it was off and out through the graveyard and straight into a little consternation as to the right way on. Fat Controller let us squirm for a bit before doing the back-marking honours, too late to prevent Deep Throat and Walrus from shortcutting. A touch of suburbia later, we were heading out into the country via a very dark tunnel of foliage on the longest-but-one day. Though not yet fatigued, we then decided to hit the hay on separate runner and walker uphill treks, and this was where things got too interesting for comfort. 6 of the runners found the tall grass and shiggy a little too burdensome and ended up well distant from the pack – on the way a pack of cyclists were brushed aside and Flour Power felt it necessary to short-cut through the wrong gate, and eventually once the sound of running (rather than falling) water was audible, a hare-headed rescue team appeared yonder. Around here it became clear that this was a near-mirror image of run 249, since the beer stop again appeared next to the reservoir, stacked to the guilds with cordials and alcohol but with insufficient cups (again a good sign). This lulled a few Bogs into the false assumption that the end was near and thus they retired to the Pelican (no doubt setting their own On In in the process), leaving the throng to bridge the gap over a Ford and watch Brigadoon splash a way through. Another dark trail was soon served up before crossing the only road to Rome, and time still allowed for Brigadoon to show how hare-brained he is by ploughing through the crops on the back-runners' behalf as we On-Inned. By now the not-so-distant church bells tolled 9 and so the finishing pace was unusually quickened – must have been able to smell the pub grub.
CIRCLE: As with the attendees in general, there were too many short-cutting criminals to count, let alone name, so mention goes instead to Brigadoon who learned the hard way that beer stops should contain beer, while Rebore showed he will never properly learn to remove his hat for the circle. Plaudits meanwhile went to 125-hash-old Bag Lady in a separate garden circle for the Bogs; the inter-club rivalry had obviously returned by this stage...
ON ON ON: Rain dances we performed none, to sausage halves and chips we said “yum”, but out on the patio we said bye to the sun. Yes, the heavens opened on our chippy parade (basically the one time during a week that a hasher doesn't want it to rain), but the grub remained defiant and well fed we were. Next week we return to the Brent Knoll Inn – faith really can move hashers over mountains.
Run number: 306 (incorporating next year's half marathon), 13th June 2012.
WHERE:
The re-re-re- opened Campbell's Landing at Clevedon.
HARES: Push up and Patricia (new to this malarkey, so well done).
WHO: 2 groups of about 10 -plus 2 hounds- who knows?
RUN REPORT: written by this week's scribe, Callgirl: The hares insisted on haring off before hashers had tied their shoelaces, or even turned up, claiming there were no short cuts, but plenty of flour.
Brigadoon and Ball sport had recently clocked up 30 miles for the Weston Hospice- bring your money next week- and quite sensibly retired to the pub after the warm up.
So on a wonderful midsummer's night it was time to test your legs, endurance, thickness of sole, knowledge of north Bristol and off they went - and on and on and on and on...
Runners quickly distanced themselves from the walkers, who not having enough change for the bridge, decided simply to cut short the route by doing a 180.
Rebore in typical poetic mode, claimed if we could see the pier, then beer was near. It was, and Lime Cordial raced to the finish line in order to get to the bar first.
CIRCLE: Lots of down downs for the hares who obviously don't know when to stop. Swallow turned up again at the end- proper boozer that one.
ON IN: Nice pub this, plenty of room to swing a hasher (if needs be) and decent sandwiches, plus pub chips. Rebore solved the mystery of the pants. He'd given the pants to Flour Power not left them there. Just need to know why she's watering them, then again, perhaps not!
Run number 305, 6th June 2012.

WHERE:
The Old Barn, Wraxall.
HARES: Rebore, Limpet and a bit of Brigadoon.
WHO: 39 hashers, 1 latecomer and 5 hounds – almost too many to count!
RUN REPORT: A bring and share shindig with the Bristol Greyhounds was always likely to bring the numbers out in force, and even the weather cooperated by finding a 90 minute pocket of sunshine for us in amongst all the rain. No warmup this time as we spent too long on our car park assembly, so straight On Out it was. The pack was soon briefly split by some bovines standing guard at the exit to the first field, but we were soon back together out on the main road thanks no doubt to some cow whisperers. The runners soon had their heavy boots on, and it's a miracle that they stayed on since a daring slosh through deep farmyard shiggy was on the cards under the tantalising gaze of the yonder walkers. The closest to a fall was Call Girl when discovering a filled in hole, though several had skirted the hazard by climbing over the adjacent fence, claiming that was where the flour was for good measure. Accusations flying this way and that, we immediately split up again – the runners took to a nettle-dominated bridge crossing after misinterpreting a turnback while the walkers cackled. Perhaps lulled into a false sense of security by the shiggy negotiation, Giddyup took a tumble without injury and Eager Beaver turned Butterfingers when opening the Haribo at the imminent sweet stop; thankfully some jelly babies were already on the way round and germophobia is not high on a hasher's agenda. After latecomer and cordially behaved Lime Cordial had caught up we then entered Towerhouse Wood at different paces, with the runners using a bit of trial and error to negotiate the many crossroads on offer before regrouping in the midst of Towerhouse Lane – the intestinal link between Wraxall and Failand. Instincts pointed down while the compasses in our heads pointed up, so down it was and onto a side trail comically missed by the FRBs. One more false downhill later, and we were in amongst the nettles with a vengeance, followed by a minor electric fence maze with the horses therein looking on in wonder. We all looked on with equal wonder at the beer stop as Pushup emerged without getting lost again, and so what was the reward? A share of the orange segments, blueberries and cider to be exact, complimented by a very encouraging debutant Apple and Elderflower juice. Time was money, so a few cups were refilled for a mid-route circle:
CIRCLE & ON IN: We all acknowledged (without down-downing) welcome returnee Turbo who has lost precisely none of his cheetah-like pace. As mentioned, the Lime Cordial was served too late, the Beaver had been too Eager with the sweets and Giddy had to get Up off the floor. A swift On In coupled with a low-risk road crossing finished proceedings. Anyone famished yet?
ON ON ON: Fast Forward and Flour Power swelled the party-going numbers in amongst the marquees of guilt-free culinary pleasures, and the heavens opened again towards the end purely to give it that jubilee feel. Long live our noble hash.
Run number 304, 30th May 2012.

WHERE:
The Star, Tickenham.
HARES: Walrus and Call Girl.
WHO: About 30 hashers and about 6 hounds.
RUN REPORT by this week's scribe, Call Girl: A back to front, upside down rehash in the early evening sunshine, what a treat! Walkers got off to a slow start, but managed the north face by the golf club in under 30mins. Lime Cordial had been away so long he took photos of the cows to remind him what the outdoors was like.
Hashers were all over the place. Giddi-up felt giddy and ran off with the runners, Rocky found all the false trails, Irish Spu made up his own and Push–up got lost again, ‘Not enough flour' she complained.
Top Tip: Look on the ground next time!
Runners' loops kept the FRBs hot and sweaty, and behind the walkers, who played pooh sticks on the bridge to while away the time.
CIRCLE: Rampant Rabbit, who spends many happy hours with Spotted Dick and is new to Bogs, was welcomed.
Walkie Talkie was congratulated on doing 200 hashes. HURRAH!
ON IN: Large pub with invisible staff. Chips and bread and marg. Plenty of room to spread around. Rewind brought some Polish chocolate fancies for desert.
Run number 303, 23rd May 2012.

WHERE:
The Brewer's Arms, Banwell.
HARES: Fondue and Smacker.
WHO: 22 hashers and 4 hounds.
RUN REPORT: High pressure dominated on this out-in-the-sticks-and-nettles hash, with much of the warm trail bathed in a gorgeous brick red sunset. Cinderella began proceedings with a Father Abraham warmup right up there with the best from the choreographic absentee Deep Throat, and quite necessary it was too since the walkers and runners immediately spent a little time apart. The runners respectfully skirted a graveyard while the walkers took in the sights of the local bowling green, with the rendezvous taking place uphill on the aptly named High Street. Unfortunately there were no beasts of burden available to assist with the next segment – a narrow Everestian ascent with nettles to boot, but as always all worthwhile for the picturesque panoramic at the top. Here came the rare treat/punishment of the walkers heading up and the runners slightly down; the latter took to Wint Hill on the advice of an unidentified farmyard creature that squealed “On On” and headed down past the scenic Rhodyate Farm to a regroup, whereby the walkers tumbled down from above in their droves. Talking of driving, here the hares showed the good side of their planning by motoring past us to set up a distant beer stop; while they were hard at work the throng took in some lovely views of nearby Crook Peak and Brent Knoll and the equality-motivated fish hook for 9. After substituting dry soil for tall grass and a nettle minefield we then came across what had recently left us behind – a beer stop with every form of liquid apple, jam sponge and Fondue's signature maple and pecan cakes. Next it was time to turn our backs on the setting sun and take in the same views but from higher altitude – every bit as delightful as the delicacies that had been on offer. The front running 7 even had the chance to stare directly at the sun again thanks to a fish hook, but the best sights were back in the right direction – first a sweet stop with liquorice allsorts, pastilles and tangy randoms, and then some sightseeing around the nearby Skeleton Stone memorial. None of us ended up the victims of a curse for desecrating the grave, so time then for a downhill On In via the uphill On Out while still bathed in plenty of light. 1 hour 35 minutes I made it, Smacker had estimated 1 hour and 30 before we started, but the seemingly more reliable Cinderella marked it as 1 hour and 28 minutes; I seriously need to start On-Inning a bit quicker...
CIRCLE: A red sunset swathed trail and also a red letter occasion – Daisy the dashing hound has waited nearly two years to receive the handle “Mudlark” (narrowly chosen ahead of “Pepper Pig” via a democratic vote), while Smacker received the temporary handle “Brigadoon the 2nd” for taking the wrong beer stop car keys just like Briggy on run 184 – got memories like elephants, us hashers. Fondue was also temporarily nicknamed Fondle for the same reason; when you come to the Star at Tickenham next week, forget you ever read this segment. Partly to help her forget, Smacker drank to 50 trails, while 3 peak champions Harenet and Tumbling Ted the birthday boy toasted their 75th runs. The evening's criminals were Brigadoon travelling downhill without using his feet, the cow herding Walky Talky, the flirtatious Limpet and Inchworm who unwisely decided to be helpful with a wobbly stile; what some people will do for an early drink...
ON ON ON: Small pub equals cosy pub, particularly if you rearrange the furniture to give it a restaurant feel. Plenty of sausages, cheese and ham sandwiches, salad and chips soon appeared, and proved good enough for Deep Throat, Swallow and Fast Forward to grace us with their appearance. The former had better watch his step; Cinderella now looks a genuine rival to his warmup skills.
Run No: 302, 19th May 2012.

WHERE:
Brigadoon's abode, Weston-super-Mare.
HARES: Brigadoon, Skidmark, Cowslip and Chelsea.
HASHERS: Brigadoon, Skidmark, Cowslip, Chelsea, Kerb Crawler, Limpit, Backchat and Rebore.
RUN REPORT: We set off shortly after 13:00 (having made a collective Hashing decision to all stick together and ignore the Runners Route) along pavements and through alleyways to reach the site of the former railway station for the line to Clevedon and Portishead. Then we headed off passing the Bristol House pub where those Hashers with a stronger will than Brigadoon dragged him away from the temptation of a pint or two. On and up through a sunny Ashcombe Park to the Upper Bristol Road, then a delightful descent back through the park, only to find a turnback. Hmmm that's why Brigadoon and offspring were nowhere to be seen!! We meandered and wiggle waggled our way back along cycle paths, cut throughs and alleyways admiring local gardens filled with a colourful array of spring flowers and flowering shrubs as we On In-ed back to Brigadoon's.
We circled up in the back garden and sang Hashy Birthday to Briggy. No shiggy, no offences, no statistics - so we were free to enjoy the BBQ and the wonderful spread Ginny had laid out ready for both the family and Hashers.
Numbers swelled for the BBQ with the arrival of Cheesepot plus birthday cake and candles, Smacker also with cake, DD, Flour Power and friend.
Well done to Bag Lady who completed the Bristol 10K in just over an hour. Great achievement.
Run No: 301, 16th May 2012.

WHERE:
The Nova Scotia, Bristol.
HARES: Happy Hooker and Rewind.
WHO: About 29 hashers and about 4 hounds.
RUN REPORT written by this week's scribe, Call Girl: The hares had lain an urban trail as a warm up for Bag Lady's entry to Bristol's 10k race this coming Sunday. After dozing in front of Coundown all afternoon, Rewind had chosen trail signs C- P- SS- R- W –V- T and plenty of Os to slow the FRBs down. While Hashers set off from the pub out along the Avon muddy banks, plenty of proper runners who were out and about looked on with mild amusement. Under the suspension bridge a turn back was spotted by the FRBs, but disaster struck, when the walkers chatted, oops, walked past it and headed for Pill. A rescue party kindly led by DT and Cinders returned all to safety. This didn't stop Kerb Crawler chastising the hares loudly. "More flour!" and other rude words learnt from mixing with undesirables. Missing being covered in shiggy Irish Spu had found a bit and rolled himself in it. Regrouped and rested on the benches provided by Leigh Woods, the hash pressed on over the bridge, no one jumped and on we sped into Clifton, either short cutting with the walkers or very long looping with the runners. Walrus, who had been daydreaming out of the window at work earlier in the day, had spotted the trail being laid; with his insider information, he shot into the lead by Lloyds, the fast pack catching up eventually, just before on in to the pub.
CIRCLE: A bit of a squash inside the pub as we were late back and didn't want to miss the grub. Rocky brought news of the 3 Peakers, all had been mounted, so bring your money next week and pay up if you sponsored them!
ON IN: The Nova Scotia (french for small and by the waterside) is a cosy pub, and generously served up plenty of real bread and lashings of chips.

Harenet and Tumbling Ted run the Three Peaks in aid of The Motor Neurone Disease Association.

Harenet reports: "I am pleased to say that Tumbling Ted and I did the Three Peaks Challenge during the weekend of 12th May 2012 – to climb Ben Nevis, Scafell and Snowdon in 24 hours!
I have to admit I was doubtful I would manage all three as the hostel we stayed in on Friday night was incredibly noisy and if I managed two hours sleep it would be an exaggeration. I had also not banked on feeling incredibly nauseous after climbing Ben Nevis and found it hard to eat anything at all. I wonder if I will ever eat a flapjack or energy bar again!
The weather was on our side and amazingly we did not have any rain although we experienced plenty of snow on Ben Nevis – about two foot at the top! Not much visibility on the summits and it is hard to tell from our photos which mountain is which.
Climbing down from Scafell Pike in the dark and up Snowdon at 3:30am on Sunday morning was pretty weird and you do ask yourself why the heck you put your name down for this. Now the event is over I can say it was a good experience but, at the time, trying to catch some sleep on a non-reclining seat, toilet stops on the mountain when the rest of your team are fifteen men and trying to force down as many calories as possible when you are feeling sick it was hard to feel enjoyment!
However, if anyone fancies a challenge, go for it!
Now comes the hard bit - collecting in all the sponsor money. I think alot of hashers have paid us in advance (they had more confidence in me than I did!) but I will bring the form along to the next hash in case!
Thank you very much to everyone who supported us."


Run No: 300, 9th May 2012.

Warm-Up

Regroup

Viewpoint

Rewind

300R

Spartan

Daisy

Circle

On-After

The Shiggy You Missed.

WHERE: Nailsea & Backwell Rugby Football Club.
HARES: Brigadoon and Ballsport.
WHO: 24 hashers, 4 hounds and 1 latecomer.
RUN REPORT: “It's raining, it's pouring, the hash isn't boring”. For our olympic-themed hash number 300 we were treated to Brigadoon the gladiator and his pledge for a quick, dry trail; dream on. The On Out took us around the rugby fields to a spot where the FRBs came to be by shortcutting through the fence – they were thus sent on an imminent runners' route without any accompanying hares or maps as due punishment. While waiting for the runners plus semi-latecomer Walky Talky at the first regroup, Smacker showed her artistic flair by constructing some Olympic-themed laurel crowns from the vegetation. By now we looked well and truly ready for that thing coming up in London soon, and so on we relayed to the main road and back into the back doubles again, with the walkers inadvertently shortcutting en route. After passing Tithe Barn we started to feel that this was a dirty tricks hash, with a far-out blob at a crossroads being the cause of our suspicions, though the hares were (for now) blameless for the heavens opening at a sweet stop viewpoint with Rowntrees Randoms, Pastilles and Deep Throat's supplementary humbugs. Sufficient millimetres of rain had fallen for our retraced route to be divided into a wet cut and a dry cut alongside – popularity of each was virtually a 50/50 split. We soon reached tarmac again and followed a shiggy slope down to the evening's symbol highlight – a slightly-washed-away 300 with a regroup symbol contained within. Everyone seemed to understand it, though nobody could make hide nor HARE of why we then continued in the opposite direction of the distant RFC. This was to be a dirty trick by Brigadoon in every sense of the word. First we successfully squared up to some farmyard bovines and their leavings and then we swam through a field in the same direction as a stretch of run 190 in times gone by. This was a good time to be a back runner, because Brigadoon then gave the order to go back from whence we came! Unless you wanted to go through even deeper shiggy, of course – we all ended up choosing the option suited to those who valued their shoes. Had there been blobs it would have been something like a T40 to go with the T24 last seen on this territory, but hey at least the rain then chose to slacken off a bit. As we closed in on the Rugby Club turned hasher's restaurant for the evening, we chose to ignore the On Out arrow from earlier, though a second run around would have been no more then Brigadoon deserved.
CIRCLE: Minus our thoroughly brown footwear, we circled up indoors with all the party grub tantalisingly laid out. On the back of a surprising lack of red letter stats, a rather picky list of crimes included Deep Throat repeating announcements to the throng (we don't like clarity here!), several fish hook skippers and Brigadoon and Coppertone acting like they had Alzheimer's – or was that me? I can't remember...
ON ON ON: Who needs a rain-soaked BBQ? Every raw party food under the sun comprised the menu and proved enough of an attraction for Fast Forward to turn up for a bite. With bring and share one tends to end up with 5 times too much grub, but not tonight for this famished fraternity – well over half of it was gone by our departure. Another 300 of those would do quite nicely, so on on to the land of The Rising Sun in Backwell this Sunday for those in close proximity.


Run No: 299, 2nd May 2012.

I'm not lion to you,
I'm sure I saw a rabbit!

Woodcut he won't be on
this island for much longer.

They get a Beer Stop
- I get a Muddy Puddle.

It's Never Enough with
Down 'N' Dirty...

R in a circle means
put your rabbit ears on.

Is it ballet or is
it Pole Dancing?
WHERE:
The Swan at Rowberrow.
HARES: Eager Beaver and Down and Dirty.
WHO: 30 hashers, and 5 hounds.
RUN REPORT from this week's Scribe, Call Girl: After the wettest drought on record, hashers gathered for the first dry run in weeks. Fondue in a time loop continuum of her own, still wore her signature wellies. Leaving Coppertone and Down and Dirty in charge of the pub until our safe return, hashers set of on one of Eager Beavers top notch trails. 3 Peakers, Hare Net and TT, now in their last 10 ten days of training, leapt up the slopes, whilst Irish Spu, a shadow of his former self after hashing nonstop, learnt the frustration of the fishhook. I think it was something beginning with F. To provide wider vistas Eager had organised some deforestation and provided a sweety stop at one of the better viewpoints. Dolly, Holly Butthead and Beerstop from nearby Kennet and Avon, Bristol and Truro hashes, supplemented the runners and kept the pace up all the way. Just when we thought things couldn't get any better, Eager had devised a special grotto through the trees, even switching the lights off to give it that extra eerie touch. Turn backs and regroups, walkers routes and fishhooks galore, all meant only one thing, it was time for ……………..the beerstop! On cue stepping out of the glooming, Down and Dirty appeared with shopping trolley, complete with lashings of melon and delicious cakes.
CIRCLE: Crimes included Holly refusing a water jump and Godzilla and Limpet who were caught sitting down.
ON IN: The Swan Pub is in a lovely position far away from any shops which might explain the small amount of strange chips and garlic bread that was served up.
Run number 298, April 28th 2012.


WHERE:
The Black Horse, Clapton-in-Gordano.
HARES: Woodcut, superbly assisted by offspring Hannah and Rebecca.
WHO: 22 hashers, 2 hounds and 2 latecomers.
RUN REPORT: A Saturday well spent. Deep Throat got us in the mood for a two-and-quarter-hour hash by making us shout the lines to Father Abraham, and it was at this stage that the junior and senior hares appeared looking none the worse for their setting exertions. We began by strolling through some tall grass with some very big flour blobs and soon ended up on a back road where the FRBs had already managed to mark a checkpoint incorrectly - instinct mixed with the sound of distant On Ons pointed us in the right direction, dodging the rain-filled potholes past Mayo Farm Riding Centre and then encountering a mutiny! First Woodcut let the FRBs squirm into a turnback - by the time they returned the check symbol had been discreetly converted to a regroup - and then Inchworm and photographer Rocky Horror decided to heinously check out the route before all of us had reassembled. The whole throng paid the price - first they came back, then they went back to the turnback, then they went the right way again! It turned out to be for a very worthy cause, though - virgins Jeannette and the baby Bog-in-a-backpack Tabea were out to catch us up. The way on continued the shiggy theme (the scribe tragically lost his pen lid to the swamp en route), but as the sound of the ever-busy M5 came to the fore, the conundrum arose as to whether we were going over or under it. The answer had to wait a while as we joined the Clapton Circuit (barbed wire keeping us at arm's length) and then chewed it over at a fruity regroup which was the apple of our eye. When the back-walkers caught us up, over was the answer we settled on, even if Coppertone, Jeannette and Tabea had to retire to the pub early. Brigadoon learned the slightly hard way why flour is the substance of choice for blobs and arrows - his impromptu stick arrow pointing over the motorway bridge lasted about 2 seconds before being hounded out of sight. Nonetheless we knew the way on and up over the traffic (Rebore tried to shake the bridge before realising it was made of concrete, not rope) and towards a surprising, fresh batch of bluebells for company. Still, I doubt they would have tasted as nice as the sweet stop treats awaiting us up on Cadbury Camp Lane - namely chocolate buttons and fruit pastilles which Limpet could not help/resist sitting down to enjoy. A leisurely stroll along the lane followed until the runners learned that what comes down, must go up - compensated for of course by more wild garlic aromas and bluebell sightings. After regrouping we ambled towards another bluebell-bedecked woodland while passing some sheep, though poor Walky Talky must have felt like the black one after breaking a stile. After we succeeded on staying upright while slaloming back down towards the pub, we found some horses standing guard at the exit to the field at the bottom - fortunately they belonged to virgin Monica who did the necessary whispering to see us on our way. Famished we might have been by now, but a banquet stop underneath the M5 was still as pleasant a surprise as a bog could ask for. On the menu were pasties, sausage rolls and their cheese and onion hybrid, cheese squares in a Malteser pot, tomatoes and mini chipolata sausages (I feel hungry again just typing this!). We then tried to do away with road sense as we circled up on the road, viz:
CIRCLE: Plaudits aplenty deservedly went to Woodcut and the junior hares - Hannah was also given the handle of Stuck In after just about winning a battle with a swamp of shiggy. Virgins Jeannette, Monica, Ben and Tabea were also welcomed and the crimes of stile breaking and shortcutting were attached to the heads of Walky Talky and Deep Throat. Road sense did have a say after all, though, as we all jumped out of the way of the latest bewildered driver while trying to commemorate Woodcut's 25th run. Here's to a quarter centurion, he's true blue...
ON ON ON: Plenty fed we were already so no grub at the pub, just a nice cosy back room with very quick service. If there was a fault for me it was having to settle for Blueberry rather than Glitter Berry J20. All we need now is V.I.P. status.


Run Number 297, April 25th 2012.
WHERE:
Gordano Rugby Football Club, Portbury.
HARES: Coppertone and Inchworm.
WHO: 31 hashers and 3 hounds on time, 2 hashers and 3 hounds late.
RUN REPORT: An appropriate christening of “the shiggy blueberry run” from the grandmaster for this shiggy-dominated trek through Prior's Wood, after some excellent hoki-coki choreography, of course. Stalwarts Inchworm and Coppertone had boldly left the flour to weather the storm overnight, and so their intuition proved mostly correct. We all knew the way towards the bluebells, but Cinderella still felt the urge to try his hand at herding yonder cattle, with limited success. Instead the arrows herded us up a very shiggy, sloshy track and under the foliage, though this was not even a taster of what was to come. Firstly there was the runners shooting up and back down some very unnatural steps while the walkers coasted down one of those mudslides that kids' TV can't get enough of. The number of fall guys and gals remained surprisingly low as we reached the aromatic wild garlic and tranquil stream crossing at the bottom, but soon there beckoned another hazard in the form of a fish hook for 4 on an inevitably muddy uphill – thankfully there was a gravelly “central reservation” on this uphill, otherwise the 4 FRBs may well have been heading back into a bottleneck. The time felt just right then for this year's bluebell crop to welcome us with open buds – I judge them to be a large improvement so far on what last year's bluebell run served up (though of course we have come earlier in the year this time). Spirits thus were high – in fact for the runners they were virtually in the clouds as a very steep upward and downward trudge then beckoned after a regroup; this is where the legs of a real hare would have been welcome. The light then faded as we reached the grassy plateau of the wood, but still another fish hook for 4 and a mountain of mud needed to be negotiated before we reached our home for the evening. By this stage the scribe had gone down with a serious bout of back-marking (obviously owing to not having the confidence to run through squelchy shiggy; you just can't get the staff these days). Memorable highlights though included deliberately skidding rather than not-so-deliberately tumbling down another shiggy slope, Deep Throat and Swallow using their undoubted knowledge of the woods to make their own On In, and the heavens opening only slightly as we touched down at the rugby club (wrong sport, silly – I think you've still got bluebells on the brain).
CIRCLE: No sweet or beer stops on a trail all to do with shiggy and bluebells (neither taste particularly good), so a welcome time to circle up indoors with a choice of squash and cider for down-downing. A toast took precedence for centurion Walrus (looking very dashing in that helmet and toga), three-quarter centurion Swallow and one-tenth centurion Waynetta. Swallow also constituted a returnee along with Ali and Butthead, and then there was the very respectable total of merely 8 fallers during this Mississippi Mudbath, plus an acknowledgement of Dungeon Dragons, Smacker and the 3 hounds in tow as latecomers. Inchworm then regaled us with the story of how he used his immense frame/brainpower to fell a tree on a recent Irish hash; the alternative hash handle of “Woodcut” is already taken by this coming Saturday's hare, unfortunately.
ON ON ON: After a brief struggle to find the venue, Bag Lady turned up with a mini-mountain of chips to supplement the wraps, sandwiches and chocolate cake we were already feeding our guilty pleasures on. Only a stone's throw along to the Black Horse for this Saturday's trail – this scribe however accepts no responsibility if he turns up and finds windows have been smashed.
Run number 296, April 18th 2012.

WHERE:
The Miner's Rest, Long Ashton.
HARE: Pork Scratchings & Sticky End.
WHO: 27 hashers and 4 hounds.
RUN REPORT: This hash saw the return of Sticky End, who appologised for his recent absence. We gathered in the ever shrinking car park, looking at the new build taking up some of the former car park. There was a prompt start leaving Smack'er and Fondu still trying to find somewhere to park. It did not take very long to find the the shiggy in the wood, which was then followed by decending steep slopes (still with shiggy) - we had been warned. We gathered at the regroup waiting for the late comers Smack'er, Fondu, Cinderella (supprise, suprise) and Kerb Crawler, along with the gallent hashers who waited for them (Rebore & Rewind). We also heard news that DT was also on his way and were hoping he would be able to find the trail this time after failing last week. We then went back into Long Ashton and it was not long before Tumbling Ted was asking local dog walker if they had seen any flour. There was a check point that caused confussion, Walrus followed by DT (who had not long caught up with the pack) found three blobs as were steeming ahead, at a similar time Tumbling Ted found a sweety stop in a differnt direction, unfortunatly nine hashers could not be called back (they missed a line to stop them crossing and were on the walkers trail). The nine hshers oblivious kept follwing the trail until they saw a BN sign pointing across their path and realised no-one else was following them. After the aid of mobile phones contact was made with the rest of the pack and Sticky End was sent to provide sweets and sort them out. Walrus decided to run back and ended up catching up with the pack and was one of the first to get back to the BN sign from the correct direction. The rest of the sub pack did not want to get cold waiting so ran the runners loop backwards until they saw the runners and then turned round going back to the BN. Everyone was impressed at the beer stop with the apple segmented and cored but still intact as a whole apple. The trail back caused less confussion, but has a bit of a steep climb back (luclky on pavements and not shiggy).
CIRCLE: Rebore passed the centurion's cloak to Limpit. Virgin, Irish Spew, was welcomed and also rewarded for doing the Sunday, Monday and now Wednesday hash all in the same week. The hasheres who seperated were also given down downs, they were; Walrus, DT, Kerb Crawler, Walky Talky, Back Chat, Flour Power, Rewind and Never Enough.
ON ON ON: We had a few platters of sandwiches and a bowl of chips, the chips were scoffed down very quickly and luckly for those that didn't get there in time, another bowl appeared a bit later. Smack'er aslo advised there have been some changes with the T-shirts as we were no longer getting them through Moosoon and we would have to re-order our t-shirts (or provide our own). She showed everyone sample t-shirts and had a variety of colours and sizes for people to chose from and try on.
Run Number 295, April 11th 2012.

Failand Church.

Failand Farm.

Severn Estuary.
WHERE:
Failand Inn, Failand.
HARES: Backchat and Inchworm.
WHO: 31 hashers and 6 hounds.
RUN REPORT: The grandkids will be hearing about this one. A midsummer-standard turnout set the tone for an epic trail which felt like two rolled into one, so apart were the runners and walkers throughout. After needing 5 seconds to sufficiently warm up, the separation theme began straight away as the runners took to skirting rather than straddling some horses, bathed suitably in the blood red sunset behind them. While this was all happening the walkers had the comfort of both a back-chatting co hare and even a map, so no excuses if they went AWOL. As it was, they reached a photo stop in front of Failand Farm more than a tad after the runners for a change, but still everyone was able to muster a smile for the Happy Hooking photographer. To the sight of the still-glowing sunset and the aroma of wild garlic we then proceeded in the direction of West Tanpit Wood, with the runners taking on a slightly steeper hill than the walkers but the walkers having to negotiate a cesspit of shiggy to compensate. We then reconvened under what I like to call giant half-redwoods and found the bluebells already springing to life – let's hope they are still alive when Coppertone's imminent bluebell run comes round. Coppertone himself was alive enough to amicably lead the charge through checkpoints aplenty at one point, which eventually brought us back out onto tarmac. Up, down, up and back into woods again was the new itinerary, with the runners' route sufficiently dark to whip out the head torches once more so as to light up the hilltop sweet stop. Dolly Mix and Fruit Pastilles had never been so welcome for an already wearied throng, but once again we did not stay together for long. With the scribe adopting a “Run, Walk, Run, Walk, Run, Eat” schedule for the evening, the walkers' route again grabbed the headlines – wading through wet grass, taking in views that stretched out to the Avon Bridge and quickly reaching a “stand in the middle of the road” regroup where the runners appeared all of 7 minutes later. Downhill time? Only for one furlong if you were a runner – they had to/chose to go up-field and found themselves on the slightly familiar terrain of Oxhouse Lane, accustoming themselves to the traumatic news of this trail being beer stop free in the process. Quite a sobering thought, and yet still a brilliant On In – there remained time to skirt an empty cricket field and for a pile-up to occur by a stile among the back runners, just in time to catch the aroma of what the unfailing Failand Inn staff were cooking up. I think the scribe really liked that trail!
CIRCLE: Deep Throat turned up to supervise his non-hashing down down plus the welcoming of 1 ½ virgins – the genuine virgin was Joystick from Bristol Greyhounds and also there was Alex who had bogged before but many moons ago. Rebore appeared to be in a centurion's toga which was not commemorated, or possibly it was overlooked by Cinderella, Bag Lady and Coppertone reaching 5 Bog years apiece. The sweet stop had made sitting ducks of Bag Lady, Limpet, Fondue, Brigadoon and Ballsport, and the former got another free drink out of her shoe for wearing it on the trail. Save the smart dress for the pub, if at all...
ON ON ON: We squeezed into the pub's conservatory like battery hens, but the grub certainly wasn't chicken feed. DIY chip butties were the delicacy on offer, and well wolfed down they were too. After that marathon, it feels right for us to go just down the road from the Failand Inn next week for a Minor Rest.
Run number 294, 4th April 2012.
WHERE:
The Conservative Club, Clevedon.
HARES: Batty and Clanger.
WHO: 23 hashers and 4 hounds.
RUN REPORT by this week's first scribe, Eager Beaver: A superb Father Abraham warmup was just what we needed on a wet and windy evening – both temperatures and hasher numbers were back around the average mark. After discovering a secret way around the back of the nearby Bristol Inn, we ventured up through the foliage to Dial Hill, with the FRBs' task made more gruelling by a turnback en route. Once up among Clevedon's upper quarter, we decided that a couple of blind alleys were a small price to pay for the pending sweet stop par excellence – while on candid camera we were treated to the rain easing off, the view of Clevedon coming to the fore, and best of all we had every mini-novelty-Easter egg under the not-quite-sun to choose from. Duly gorged, we then descended to the tried and tested approach path to Ladye Bay, but a strong twist beckoned – while the walkers took back to the low road, the runners went on a hike against the elements that battered them without bruising. Ultimately they found their way back to blighty via an uphill wind tunnel and the approach to the golf course, and were rewarded with a sign of the hares' impeccable planning – back up on Dial Hill, a cross was marked as on out to the right and BS straight ahead, so on ahead it was. Fruit juices, pringles, grapes, apple and I am sure some alcohol kept up our body heat, though the walkers were still not to be seen as we headed back to town. In the end the runners decided they had been had, and so they went with the flow thanks to a riverbank On In combined with the long-stretching Teignmouth Road. 9:10pm was the well-suited finishing time.
CIRCLE: With an upstairs dance floor to ourselves, who wouldn't combine it with On On On? Read on...
ON ON ON: The pedometer in all of us recorded this as a 5 or 6 mile trek depending on whether you walked or ran, whereas the statistician in few of us recorded 2 years of bogging for Smacker and the return of Coppertone and Bag Lady. Smacker also had an unfortunate stumble on the trail while Deep Throat of all people had short-cutted, but other crimes in the circle were too many for me to notice. Now, what crime could be worse than that? Anyway, all could easily be forgiven/forgot when a smorgasbord of pork pies, sausage rolls, scotch eggs, chips and sandwiches for all seasons were in need of devouring. Anything to oblige – can we all vote Conservative more often?

Run number 294, 4th April 2012.
WHERE:
Conservative Club Clevedon.
HARE: Batty and Clanger.
WHO: 26ish plus a few small type of dog.
RUN REPORT by this week's second scribe, Call Girl: An elite hash starting from Tory HQ in Clevedon. After checking the vicinity for pasty munching monkeys, hashers rolled up their sleeves, got back to basics and hashed away. At the beginning we were all in it together, but after a short puff up Chapel Hill, we were clearly not! No fox to be seen but two very able hares had, despite the rain, left plenty of flour for both parties to follow. Walkers kept a conservative pace whilst runners were sent out to the left on a wild and windy goose chase around the waterfront. A sweetie stop par excellence awaited all, chewey things and very chocolatey things all purchased or shoplifted from Lidl, my new second home! DT disappeared for ages, but after an investigation it turned out he had crossed the floor and disappeared with the walkers! Unusually, the walkers had beaten the runners to the beer stop! Happily Brigadoon had left some tinnies behind.
CIRCLE AND ON-IN: Crimes - come on, we were in the Conservative Club – how long have you got? Coppertone and Bag lady were warmly welcomed back into the fold after globetrotting in foreign climes for several months. Lots of lovely grub – plenty for all.


Run number 293, 28th March 2012.
WHERE:
The Darlington Arms, Redhill.
HARES: Cinders and Walkie Talkie.
WHO: 26 hashers and 6 hotdogs.
RUN REPORT by Assistant Scribe, Call Girl: A hilly hash set by professionals Cinders and Walkie Talkie, took us off, out and up. Cinders had put a shilling in the meter so the lights stayed on for ages.
Spotted Dick helped everyone across the killer road, using hand signals learnt long ago, whilst he was a lolly pop lady, no doubt.
Runners had lots of long stretches only interrupted by a few turn backs; a specially nasty smelly one through and back some sort of killing shed in a farm, phew!!!!!!
FRBS: Spotted Dick, Walrus and Tumbling Ted kept the pace going up front whilst Limpet kept things orderly at the back.
BEER STOP AND CIRCLE: Crimes included lots of shortcutting round the stile in the middle of nowhere and Flour Power who trashed the daffs at the beer stop, stomping up and down till they'd fit in a vase. Brigadoon had brought a virgin with him, and Rebore became a centurion.
ON IN: The Darlington Arms is a big pub, and was filled to the gills with big blokes playing a little game of skittles.
Lots of tasty sandwiches and PROPER chips, cooked in beef fat, hoorah!! Smacker took orders for the celebratory sweat shirt; please see Smacker for yours if you haven't got one.
Run number 292, 24th March 2012.

Limpit's Back.

Wain's Hill

Rebore's Front

Skid Mark

Flour Power

Cow Slip
WHERE:
1 Woodington Road, Clevedon.
HARE & HOST: Pushup.
WHO: 8 hashers, later joined by 7 BBQ visitors.
RUN REPORT: Summer has again come early – having temperatures in the high teens may actually have been what kept the numbers down, if not the enthusiasm. After on-outing past Mary Elton Primary School (Clevedon's election polling station, no less), we took in the sights and sounds of the riverbank and decided to ignore one of Pushup's G-spot runners' routes (Eager Beaver at least tried yet failed to make any sense of it). Instead we crossed a bridge and came to a crossroads with a reward at stake – while “checking it out”, Brigadoon happened upon an abandoned but far from tatty fiver under a rock – must try route checking myself more often, then. Now that we were recognised as professional hashers, we ambled past the golf course and out towards the Severn. Poet's Walk was in the way, though, and so we all elected to scramble up something almost resembling a cliffhanger, but not quite – needles to say juniors Cowslip and Skidmark made the lightest work of it. Up on the top Wales could be made out in minute detail in the distance, further emphasised by us all huddling into a watch tower at lower altitude. Here a T2 pointed us back up and along past what I consider Somerset's most scenic graveyard and ultimately a spot of indecision. While the rest of us took a lot of persuading to find the wrong way, Rebore and Brigadoon quickly located an upside-down “NI NO” symbol from earlier and decided to invent their own on-in. The penalty? Missing out on a sweet stop with fruit pastille hybrids, though some were charitably left in reserve for them back at the BBQ. Beer stop – quite sensibly deemed unnecessary when you have charcoal waiting back at home...
CIRCLE: Taste-buds-a-tingling, we congratulated Pushup on another far-from-mean feat of combining hare, barbecue and hostess duties. All bar Cowslip also came forward for route misinterpretation, horror of horrors.
ON ON ON: 8 hashers would have struggled with this food mound-not-quite-mountain, so the addition of Rewind, Fast Forward, Batty, Clanger, Fondue and 2 non-hashers was most welcomed. Hard to pick a highlight, so choose your own from this list – fruit cake, rocky road, sausages and burgers galore, Iron Brew, foil-wrapped salmon and a pound of pasta salad (yes, I am trying to make non-attendees jealous). Next week's trail will no doubt work all of this off.
Run number 291, March 21st 2012.
WHERE:
The Golden Lion, Wrington.
HARES: Tumbling Ted & Harenet.
WHO: 19 hashers, 2 hounds and 2 latecomers.
RUN REPORT: A trail well worth the exertion both by foot and by car – what better way to spend an evening than running rings around Wrington? After everyone had miraculously found places to park, we hoki-cokied with a warning from the hares that walkers needed to hurry. To begin with, though, most were too distracted by the lovely smells of nearby cooking to hurry, and so the stakes were upped with an amble out onto the pastures of Court Farm – clearly this was not to be an urban trail. A recurring sign left by Farmer Giles warned of ewes in the dark, causing the distracted back runners to lose the trail until Walky Talky sounded the rallying On On cry. After a lot of gate opening/hurdling we came to a walker/runner split marked by shiggy, and imminently the sharp-eyed walkers spotted the head torches of 2 latecomers in the distance, who revealed themselves back on the main road to be Limpet and Rebore. They still both ended up ahead of the runners though, who had taken in a 3 kilometre loop in the interim. Being all back together was a blessing as we were now due for some major turbulence. First we struggled up a leafy trail to a sweet stop packed with midget gems, sour worms and jelly babies, reaching 9135 feet (distance, not altitude) according to Brigadoon. Next the runners were sent on either a loop or possibly a figure of 8 – at times they couldn't see the wood for trees nor the slopes for the drop, but eventually they located a lit up procession of walkers ahead and decided it would be best to join them. Once the foliage fell away the pack was kept intact with a fish hook for 6, but even this failed to maintain discipline among the back runners – they only found the next gate by trial and error and Flour Power lamented her Lucky black hound gallivanting off with the runners. Woman's best friend was located at a viewpoint overlooking Wrington before another muddy downhill had to be tackled; a fish hook for 5 on the descent was thrown in for good measure. A beer stop never seemed so appropriate, and so we combined it with circling up – read on:
CIRCLE & ON IN: Huddled in the middle of the road we gave one not-quite-speeding motorist the fright of their/our lives, and this was all during a feast of club biscuits, cider, apple and orange juice and those orange slices that we do so specialise in. On a well-behaved night we practically invented crimes to kill time – Brigadoon, Ballsport and Drop 'Em had formed a chain of arms to stop passing runners and Never Enough has not yet learned the less-rude interpretation of the symbol “BS”. On we then inned with the glowing church in sight, which had been designated as our homing beacon earlier.
ON ON ON: A crowded pub whipped up a feast of sarnies on malt bread – cheese, ham, tuna, the works – definitely a roaring success from the Golden Lion!
Run number 290, 14th March 2012.

WHERE:
Gordano Gate, Portishead.
HARE: Walrus and Call Girl.
WHO: 28 plus 7 hot dogs.
RUN REPORT (by this week's Scribe, Callgirl: A harey hash sped off at high speed into the housing estate, Brigadoon was heard panting keeping up, but TT and Harenet, now well into their training for the Three Peaks in April, were keen to experience peakless Portishead. (Contact and pledge your sponsorship money, all for MND charity; remember, every little helps and a lot helps a lot more) A long turn back down Gypsy lane, gave the hashers something to grumble about, and then no one waited at the regroup for us at the back!! Grrrr…. Rewind hid at the hide, at the sweety stop, clever move, and then another long turn back caught them all out again! What fun! A beer stop atop the only hill in Portishead gave respite with the usual beverages and surprised Smacker with a view of boats on water. Whatever next? Now on the last furlong, only 3 heroes did the fishhook, Cinders, Rewind and Spotted Dick , well done you FRBs!
CIRCLE: June announced a lewd, nude, hash bash at Bude in the summer. Contact her direct on tell all your friends, put an ad up in the post office, then we can all hang out together...
ON IN: Big pub attached to a hotel. Rewind worked out we could all share and it would only cost a tenner a night, or share very cosy and cost a £5! Chips and sandwiches all round, we're welcome back anytime, those who took their shoes off mind, Dungeons.
NEWS JUST IN: We have three teams for the MARLENS RAFT RACE, just from the hash tonight, give me a shout if you want to join in, Brigadoon has a spare raft for Rewind, Never enough and 2 other crew...
And finally: Limpet... 164 days to go!
Run number 289, 7th March 2012.
WHERE:
Koko's.
HARES: DD & Smack-Er.
RUN REPORT: The hare seemed to be having some difficulty tonight as we hashed passed checks in the wrong direction and the hare couldn't remember which way the route went when he realised we needed to go through the train station on-on was called and the pack moved on through town and across to Ashcombe Cemetery then it was up up up and into the woods at the water tower we had a sweet stop followed by a flourless track wich we abandoned and went back to check to try again on through the woods and the iron age hillfort to at last some steps down down Re-group down and on into Prince Consort Gardens for a beer stop and down down where Ballsport turned up looking very unhappy she'd been left behind in the woods without a torch and had fallen over on the steps hurting her knee back on-on down the beach to Koko's.
CIRCLE: performed on trail.
ON ON ON: Lots of great hash grub and Foudue prepared cakes yum.
Run number 288, February 29th 2012.
WHERE:
Newton House, Hill Road, Clevedon.
HARE: Deep Throat.
WHO: 31 hashers and 5 hounds; read on to find out why...
RUN REPORT: My 50-year calendar reliably tells me that this won't happen again until 2028 – bogs hashing on leap year night. Not quite a one off then (we'll be world famous in 16 years time, if indeed we aren't already), but the next best thing. A choice of bunny ears or frog masks for the specially themed “leap” costumes too, plus the ultimate novelty of boob checkpoints for checking by ladies only (not what you might think!), to the undoubted annoyance of many a front-running male contingent. We on outed towards the shut up shops of Hill Road, fully in anticipation of our cherished zigzag up to Dial Hill – the grandmaster still found room for a novelty, though, i.e. making the runners sweat with a T3 and provoking Brigadoon and Ballsport to take the wrong path – they were out of sight for at least a minute. Once up on Clevedon's far from Dire Hill, a checkpoint transformed first into a lollipop and then an arrow so as to draw back the front-and-middle running b******s, for a very early sweet stop was on the cards. We promptly decided that there never is a bad time to gorge on humbugs and rowntrees-somethings; in fact it was like a farewell dinner as the runners and walkers faced at least 20 minutes apart (that can feel like an eternity on a hash, believe me). In this case the runners took to the popular path along towards Ladye Bay, 2 × fish hooks for 4 and all, and quite wrongly assumed their doubling back towards the Walton Park Hotel was the place to find the weary walkers. Instead they stormed/crawled up Robin Lane and negotiated a crossroad or three, and only then did they find what the walkers had been up to. They had taken on the honour of plodding all the way down the Rippleside path and back up again after colliding with a leaf-hidden T8 – in other words, they had done the FRBs' work for them. Beer stop rewards at Linda Knott's abode (apologies for spelling – that could conceivably be a real or a hash name!) seemed in order, but not before a spot of fence hurdling, or circumnavigating for those who felt it was one clamber too many. The satsuma quarters, apple juice, cider and doggy treats on the menu did their job, and so on we then upped towards Clevedon's highest point via bracken and mild shiggy. The BRBs got a lovely visual of the silhouetted throng resembling stone henge (“Hash Henge!” christened Deep Throat), though unfortunately photographer Happy Hooker was not among them. Years gone by saw lovely bonfire night displays on the cricket field we ventured onto yonder, but there were no fireworks tonight as we took to a walking pace On In. A tried and tested Clevedon route indeed – why change a winning formula?
CIRCLE: Why indeed. Once again being squashed up together indoors felt like a better venue than outdoors for a circle, especially as the aroma of our hosts' cooking was in the air. Brigadoon, Ballsport and the throng agreed that those steps were not made for shortcutting, while Walrus and Rewind learned the hard way that those booby checkpoints were meant for checking by ladies. 2 out of 4 virgins had departed but promised to return next week, leaving us to do the honours for Kelly and Stuart from Clevedon, who most appropriately judged this book as fun by its cover. Two fabulous names to bestow from here on in as well – Lou = Godzilla for her gazelle-like strides, and Markus = Woodcut for previously shortcutting through woods as his only crime to date. A fully-fledged, frolicking, flu-free Flour Power also drank to 175 runs; worth the wait!
ON ON ON: More delicious helpings of stew and baguettes from Deep Throat and Maggie, along with the announcement that we are returning to Smacker's abode next week. Hopefully this time with a scribe that arrives on time, too – I still haven't forgiven myself for spending a third of that AGPU trail catching up...
Run number 287, Saturday, 25th February 2012.

View from Stoney Steep.

Hashing in the sun.
WHERE:
The Old Barn, Clevedon Road, Wraxall.
HARES: Limpit and Rebore.
RUN REPORT: It was Saturday and something appeared that several hashers had almost forgotten existed: clear blue sky. Plus sunshine, shadows and snowdrops. Even the first few blades of daffodil spears dared to poke through the wintry grass. The hashers, happy in the heat of February, gathered in the car park of The Old Barn of Wraxall, for a game of Hokey Kokey. Instead of running, people seemed content to dawdle and stroll along catching up on conversation, prolonging the enjoyment of sunny daytime hashing. What a contrast to the usual ploughing on regardless, through dark woods and lashing rain, with branches whipping across our faces! So we went up and down fields and lanes, over a few stiles, and back and forth along a river bank. Somewhere in the region of the Downs School we hung over the fence and made endless compliments to the cuddly looking llama, alpaca, donkey, goat and Shetland pony. A dead cow was mentioned, and hashers searched in expectation, but it must have been eaten long ago. There was one fence that offended Oskar the dog, and he yelped when he discovered that it was electric. Brigadoon found a solution; just heave the end of the fence out of the mud. Simple. The sweet stop was wine gums; very nice. The beer stop was in a picturesque glade of snowdrops. A short discussion took place about the fame and merits of beer milkshake, as promoted in Cannery Row, but the hashers decided to stick to apple juice and Blackthorns, mixed or separate. Fruit: sliced apples and oranges.
CIRCLE & ON ON ON: We didn't bother with the down-down tradition, but launched straight into party mode with bring and share picnic fare under an awning in the beer garden. Compliments were made in profusion - especially towards Cheese Pot's fabulous fruit Viennese biscuit-based tart. This needs a concise hash name!
Rebore astounded us all with birthday cake with his photograph done in icing. People were happy to eat the cake, but no one wanted to eat his face!
Compliments to the hares, Limpet and Rebore, for a lovely route and for booking such good weather.
Run number 286, 22nd February 2012.
WHERE:
The Bristol House, Weston-super-Mare. HARES: Brigadoon and Ballsport.
WHO: No hounds but 11 hashers, later evolving into 13 and then 15.
RUN REPORT: A quiet night only in attendance terms – with a Brigadoon-inspired route the last thing one expects is serenity. During a Father Abraham warmup Brigadoon warned us that any runners loops would be hare-less for the evening, and so feeling up for this challenge, on we outed. First came a bit of driver-teasing in the back streets, then what we assumed was an On In with the pub in sight, but what turned out to be a very fancy front gate entrance to Ashcombe Park. Fortunately (given what was coming) we kept to a shiggy-free pavement all the way through the park, resisting the urge to play tennis on yonder courts but not the urge to scare a passing learner driver. We suspected dizzy heights by now (“bloody hill!” exclaimed Limpet and Eager Beaver) but found the ideal motivation to plod on and up – the appearance of the ever-motivational, if occasionally tardy, Dungeon Dragons. He got straight in on the act, too, joining Rebore in going AWOL at a rogue checkpoint halfway up the woodland trail – unlike Rebore, though, he opted to return to “the last place we found him”. As we reached the peak of the woods we were considering putting out “Wanted – Injured and Alive” posters of Rebore, but he spared our blushes by appearing from the other direction – quite appropriately, Rocky Horror appeared behind us simultaneously. Now that we totaled 13, we decided to keep our luck intact by splitting our speeds – bad move, it seemed, as the runners immediately missed an arrow and 8 out of 13 tasted fish hook for their troubles. After a timely sweet stop with popular oranges and not-so-popular Sour Faces (make that sour grapes!), the Rambo in us all reawakened as a daring descent down Monk's Steps beckoned. As we edged downward the going was not so much single file as it was a chain of arms, and yet still two fall victims were claimed – Rebore and Limpet (estimates of the number of falls the latter had range from 1 to 4). The reward as we found ourselves on the equally lopsided Monks Hill was not the medals we were expecting, but the option of a further runners' rambo ramble down a ladder build into the wall, braved only by Inchworm and Dungeon Dragons. Around here we could hear the delightful lapping of the waves on Sand Bay, though we were probably pleased not to actually be hashing out that far. Instead we took to the shiggy back end of Weston Woods, arriving as prophesied at the zip wire playground that we should by now claim as our own (4 times there at least for me now – not sure about the rest of you). Ballsport bravely took to some wire sport, as did Rocky Horror who experienced no such horror (after grabbing their share of beer stop oranges, orange juice and cider, of course). Rocky Horror also became beer bag courier, though it hardly slowed his descent back to civilization. There did, however, remain enough time for us to take in a lovely Westonian view (hundreds of those to choose from), plus confuse a few residents (“why are you wearing head torches?!”) and ignore a fish hook for 8 – we had serious culinary business to attend to!
CIRCLE: Like I said, serious culinary business to attend to!!
ON ON ON: Deep Throat and Maggie swelled our numbers to 15; perhaps they smelt Brigadoon's shipped-in smorgasbord all the way from Clevedon, to cover the absence of the cook. Feast was precisely what we did on chipolatas, dips, salad, sarnies and the more glamorous option of wraps - chicken tikka and cheese therein. If any fault could be found with this grub, it was that the wraps took longer to un-clingfilm than they did to eat.
Run number 285, February 15th 2012.

WHERE:
The Ship Inn, Uphill.
HARES: Brigadoon, Ballsport and Cowslip.
WHO: 18 hashers, 2 hounds and 1, no, 3, no - 6 latecomers.
RUN REPORT: More of the same exceptional standard from the Brigadoon brigade. Quite delightful was the evening's theme of heart-shaped checkpoints specially for valentines, though they were far from the only such tribute - cupid arrows were also drawn/shot through once On On had been yelled. After a briefing of “don't turn right” we headed not so much left as up and up from Uphill, for there were lovely views to behold on evening mild enough to ditch scarves. At the peak of Uphill Nature Reserve we came, saw and conquered a seemingly British Gas-sponsored watch tower, toasting our great victory with a shower of tasty love hearts and a succulent pink beverage, served in short cups but wildly rumoured to be Calpol. Whatever it was, we all felt better for it, so back down to the streets of Uphill we tumbled via a graveyard. The rare Bogs terrain of sand then took precedence along the beach near Black Rock, complete with the customary silhouette of Brean Down plus a sweet tooth indulgence of Amorettinis. Punishment for this was only slight - fish hooks for 5 and 7 in quick succession, to be precise. It was then time to cross the golf course in the reasonable assumption that nobody was playing in the dark; had there been any crisis, we could have relied on the glowing church in the distance as a beacon. No margin for error though as we then dived into the Bluebell Field plantation - we found not the disgruntled camper from run 197, but instead a speed split where walkers did at least as much scaling as runners, followed immediately by the irresistible sight of a swing stop! Dungeon Dragons, Brigadoon and I am sure somebody else had sufficient lack of common sense to test it out, but then there was a swing back towards suburbia for the trail's remainder. After ambling out onto the main road and hooking a dozen FRBs in one, we then braved the outskirts of the Bournville Estate, along Columbo Crescent and onto Jubilee Park. Yes, there were swings, plus a climbing pole, and a couple of bright moments for the hound doublet, too. First Oscar (who already seems well accustomed to hashing) told Happy Hooker off for playing on the swings the only way a hound can, and secondly Fondue decided to bend the rules by carrying Daisy through a no-dog zone (doggy bag, anyone?) We had stopped here, though, for the more important matter of the beer stop - here's to more heart-shaped sweets, cider and orange juice. Briefly back into the greenery we went after glimpsing Weston College University Campus, including a couple of bridge crossings, and a fish hook with a sideways 8 - thankfully it was not a hook for infinity. The sight of The Ship's near-neighbour pub The Dolphin confirmed it was On-In time; obviously The Dolphin rides in the bow waves of The Ship.
CIRCLE: 2 welcome virgins - Mrs Doubtfire (no, not that one - that's her already established hash handle from elsewhere), plus the easier-to-introduce Becky from Weston, here for fun like any other. Welcome back too to Old Legover, Cowslip and Duracell, though they showed any signs of rustiness throughout. A slightly dazed Inchworm had had a run in with a low branch, while Drop ‘Em had had a run in with the ground - each there to take one for the team, of course.
ON ON ON: Again plenty of sandwich variety, complimented by wedges and a shift of venue to the Bristol House for next week. The clincher was the presence of Glitter Berry J20 behind the bar - a scribe's favourite. Keep those Westonian exploits coming!
Run number 284, 8th February 2012.
WHERE:
The Railway Inn, Sandford.
HARES: Cinderella and Walky Talky.
WHO: 27 wrapped-up hashers and 3 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Very necessary was our Father Abraham warmup – though somewhat mooted compared to elsewhere, Somerset is still having its share of this big freeze. We began by skirting Thatchers Cider thanks to a novelty turnback, before being afforded the rare luxury of frozen shiggy as we approached rurality – footing was almost as secure as on concrete. Several novelty stiles to hurdle, too – one or two of them wobbled under the strain of hashers aplenty, while another was circumnavigated by Brigadoon. The itinerary then pointed the runners through the undergrowth while the walkers merely listened to their distant screams, trudging along a boy racer's back road in the process. The two tribes did, however, reconvene with excellent timing, owing to 6 of the runners being flour-blind, according to Deep Throat. Another turnback then frog-marched us back into the undergrowth, in time for an onslaught of unfrozen shiggy – mostly bovine. The survivors of this ordeal (everyone, I think) were actually quite pleased to then proceed along a dry road and verge, especially with rumours of a sweet stop thrown in. A nice location for it too, as we semi-gorged on fruit pastille hybrids and dreamt of going dry slope skiing at said centre in Sandford. Many of us DID end up going fast down a hill, however it was merely the runners who had taken the bait and zoomed uphill into a turnback. On we went through free-range chicken country, albeit with no fowl play at this late hour, and then came some compensation for earlier as the walkers landed themselves the trickier, albeit shorter, terrain. Everyone then got what they wanted, though – basically the walkers ascended past a playground into the woods while the safer walkers resisted the urge to point and laugh. A rather bizarre turn of events at the imminent regroup – fully 5 minutes (which can seem like forever on a hash) was spent choosing the way on, even though the correct way featured a beer stop right round the corner. Maybe the symbol was too hidden by the adjacent wall, or maybe we felt a need to play for time. Still, a Thatchers-themed beer stop of apple, apple juice and cider went down as well as any, and here we decided to circle up so as to keep our outdoor time to a minimum.
CIRCLE: A warm welcome to Liz from the Midlands, here entirely of her own accord – thank you Mr Website! Just as welcome was Pushover's successor hound Oscar, a fellow golden retriever with a golden heart to match. On to truths, damn truths and statistics – 20 hare commitments and next week 27 years of life for Walky Talky, plus the slightly more important news of this being Deep Throat's bicentennial hash! 200 runs, not 200 years, obviously. And yet, some of us had committed crimes on our grandmaster's day of glory – a very late Dungeon Dragons only caught us up at the beer stop, having presumably endured one of the loneliest hours of his life prior, while Rebore failed to acknowledge the circle as a no hat zone and Eager Beaver incurred the wrath of first a speed bump in top gear, and then the throng. Time for a bracing On In, then, with a brief taster of the Strawberry Line for the runners plus the by-now-upside-down T2.5 from earlier. Enjoy it while the public don't erase it, that's my new motto.
ON ON ON: Well worth doing the circle en route for. As if a very cosy front bar to ourselves did not suffice, out then came the piping hot chips and multicoloured sandwiches that could not, and did not, last long. Comfortable enough to stay till gone 10, after entering at 9.
Run number 283, 1st February 2012.
WHERE:
Cathrine's Inn, Bleadon.
HARES: Eager Beaver & Down 'n' Dirty.
WHO: A Bogs assortment (sorry I was there but can't remember who else).
RUN REPORT: Out from the pub and we soon encountered a check ,where the true trail le us toward the village past Coronation Hall and then through the church yard. It was then up Old School Lane to Shiplate Road and a little confusion as we lost the flour. The route was on-up to a wondeful view and sweetie stop, and then up again to Roman Road a short traipse along this ancient thougherfare where a very shiggy gate led to the down (yay). Past the sign for Bibeford? across the road and down the wooden steps (watch out for the horses, our hare warned). It was then past the allotments to a very welcome beer stop with rocky road. ON-ON led us to circumnavigate Purn Hill before our return to the pub.
CIRCLE: Things were said, songs were sung and drinks were drunk. Maybe I should pay more attention. ON ON ON: Sharing combos with tacos topped with cheese & salsa, garlic bread, breaded prawns tato wedges, mushrooms, chicken wings and plenty of chips not a bad spread.
Run number 282, January 28th 2012.

WHERE:
Youth Hostel, Whitesands, St David's.
HARES: Rebore, Inchworm, Fondue, Harenet, Up-Yours, Limpit, Ballsport and Brigadoon.
WHO: 1 hasher(DD), 8 hares and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: That's right a bit of a topsy-turvey trail, eight hares and one hasher. After a brisk warm-up the live hares took off down the lane and across the bridge to the first checkpoint, round the corner and up the lane and a fish-hook, for one was the order of the day. On towards Whitesands Bay with another checkpoint where we managed to send the pack of hasher off on a false trail. Down to the beach, where three brave souls had taken a short swim that very morning, up a sandy path to the first re-group. I hope the hasher waited 'till the whole pack was there before checking it out. The trail then took to the cliff path which was followed with a few checkpoints and before we reached our next re-group a yell went up. We could see the pack catching up with us! I grabbed the flour and quickly put in a fish-hook in the hope of slowing it down but it didn't take DD long to get to the rear of the pack and then back on our heels. With the hasher having caught the hares austerity measures were implemented and the flour saved for the next hash.
CIRCLE: The table in the pub was round where DD got a stern stare from the barmaid who had left her lunch to serve us, only to find her potatoes being offered to his dogs. ON ON ON: With plenty of curry from Smack-er for supper songs from Marco, cake from Fondue and fireworks from Brigadoon, Rebore's pending Birthday was celebrated in style.
Thank you, DD and Smack-er, for a great weekend!
Run number 281, 25th January 2012.
MEMORIAL HASH IN MEMORY OF PUSHOVER.
WHERE:
The Bristol Inn, Clevedon.
HARES: Happy Hooker and REWIND
WHO: 29 Hashers plus 6 at the On On. 2 Hash Hounds.
RUN REPORT by this week's guest scribe, Fondue: A very short joggle about constituted warm up - always goes to the dogs in the Grand Master's absence. Then On On was up the hill to the Princess Road crossroads where hashy confusion reigned amidst passing motorists who no doubt thought we were barking mad and quickly locked their doors. The way forward appeared to be up 'DT Street' but no! Back back and down down through the dark park meeting at the bottom was the way forward. REWIND appeared to have got his months muddled up and had dressed for June not January. Lots of parky bits (especially for REWIND) and roady bits later, we happened upon the sea (yes the tide was in!) slapping choppily against the sea wall, paying homage to Push Over in its own watery way. Sweeties were wolfed down giving us a new leash of life. A call by Happy Hoooker for the proper runners to push off left improper runners behind with the walkers. Along the seafront, black sky above with just a letter box opening, showed lights from Wales twinkling for our absent hairy friend. Then, we were down to the lower promenade where the going was just as treacherous but not so lyrical as Dancing on Ice. Had the path been narrower, there may have been a few new members of the wackier-than-hashers sea swimmers gang. A split at Poets' Walk took runners up and over (paw-sing at PO's resting place?) and walkers around and about to some old windy spot near the sea, where multi-cultural munchies of Prawn Crackers, Fortune Cookies with pearls of wisdom from wise Chinese man and a fruit combi for one of our five a day was on offer. Backchat was disappointed not to have been given a biscuit bone. No cake for her next time she visits - Tea and a Bonio instead. On On 'twixt the sea and Marshalls Field, the going got windy and ruff. Now the rain too bestowed its' blessing on us in memory of dear old PO and characteristically, didn't know when to stop. Cutting over Marshalls Field and alongside the river we encountered enough shiggy to keep the most shiggy obsessed hasher in the world happy. Yuk. More rounding and abouting took us up Hangstone Hill to a splendid view, albeit a dark one, of the many paths trod by one dearly departed pooch. Down a hill or two, brought us back to the pub.
CIRCLE: Hares were sung to and so was Virgin Hasher Lee who brought himself. Returnees Gill, Lara and Fast Forward joined the Hash to honour Pushover. Many hashers were called into the circle and put in the doghouse by our RA for various misdemeanours. The piece de resistance was Bag Lady's superb Elegy/Eulogy for Hash Hound Pushover (below). A few teary eyes in the circle methinks.
ON ON ON: Well, it's dog eat dog when it comes to hashers and food, so just as well the sandwiches and chips were in abundance and everyone had a good plateful. The evening was completed by Pushup, who in full Scottish regalia and fine Scottish accent, gave a cracking recitation of Burns To a Mouse.
So, bless you, Pushover, whereever you are. May you have heavenly bones and divine sniffy scents and trails aplenty. You were a fine figure of a dog and you setter a good example to the other Hash Hounds. Your quiet presence will be missed. xx
An elegy and eulogy for Hash Hound Pushover,
a dedicated Hasher and companion to Happy Hooker.

Pushover, the Hash Hound, was keen
To run (with the BOGS Hash, I mean).
He kept to the trail,
Happy Hooker as well,
But now will no longer be seen.

Pushover pulled people up hills;
Twas just part of life's thrills and spills.
He loved to have fun
With folks old and young,
As he showed off his Hash Fishhook skills.

The best-behaved Hash Hound, we hear;
Not running around, keeping near.
He never did bite
Or start up a fight,
A loss to us all now, I fear.

But now ‘tis the end of his day -
This Golden Retriever's stopped play.
In memory we run
As, like him there's none,
"ON ON! to Pushover", we say.


Run number 280, 18th January 2012.

WHERE:
Star Inn, Rhodyate Hill, Congresbury.
HARES: Dungeon Dragons & Flour Power.
WHO: 26 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: Nothing like a good bit of bogsnorkelling. Cadbury Hill was the majority of the trail, and a battle to stay upright was the sport on a damp evening stroll through swamps galore. The warmup for this shiggy showdown was a hoki coki in the way of a departing driver, and the weather was quick to show its hand – while On-Outing we needed trial and error to find the right way at a dissolved checkpoint – it turned out to be a descent down a bridleway that horses would struggle to keep their footing on. It didn't stop Walrus running it though, and nor did it dissuade the hares from setting a fish hook for 6 – we were so outraged that only 3 of us obeyed it, maximum. We then regrouped in another shiggy spot and chose the way onward with least mud and most sheep, combined with some nice views of twilit Somerset. Duly lulled into a false sense of security, we then found that lighter terrain equals heavier rain, and also that a trail on tarmac was too much to ask for. For just as we thought we were going to tread suburbia, a turnback (or what remained of it) pointed us back up the hill in time for a Sherbet Stop, with orange segments thrown in. Our sole hound then became Not-So-Lucky by getting caught in a patch of brambles (obviously a more humane alternative to a gin trap), but it did little to dissuade the enthusiasm of this veteran bog with four legs, once freed. Dungeon Dragons decided to let us squirm at the next checkpoint (after all, beer bag courier Deep Throat was AWOL at the time), but then came the delight of Cadbury Hill Nature Reserve, including free-range hashers. Some of us ran around a field, others walked across it, but we all found junctions with washed away blobs to be a nuisance. We instead turned to the altimeters in our heads and decided we needed to scale the beastly hill that beheld us, and boy did we pass the test with flying colours! The only incident on the ascent of any note was a very-semi-stumble from returnee Bag Lady, and the treat waiting at the top was worth all the effort. T'was a beer stop with a smouldering fire, packed compulsorily with a photo-op, alcohol galore, sweets galore and even another beautiful viewpoint immediately after – Cadbury Garden Centre was the subject. The wind now decided it wanted to take part, and may have been responsible for a few genuine tumbles as we wrapped things up. Like last time at The Star, we emerged back onto the main road less than a stone's throw from the pub, and we could already taste the culinary delight therein...
CIRCLE: A pity to see a few virgins scarper, but take note of Michelle enjoying a muddy tumble on her first trail – a sign of many more to come. Walky Talky turned up to witness the stats of others for a change – Ballsport and Eager Beaver are three quarters of the way to donning centurions' togas, while REWIND has done three times as many. Down downs too for at least 5 tumblers and Coppertone for skiving off the trail, though he had commendably left the food untouched up to now...
ON ON ON: Same standard, different menu. Fridge-cold pizza tasted surprisingly good, not so surprising was the standard set by the chips, sausage rolls, garlic bread, sandwiches galore and succulent smoked salmon. Ranking The Star as our number 1 location cannot be too far off now.
Run number 279, 11th January 2012.

WHERE:
The Rudgleigh Inn, Easton-in-Gordano.
HARES: Backchat and Inchworm.
WHO: 28 hashers, 8 hounds and 1 latecomer.
RUN REPORT: It was fitting that the hounds turned out in force, for one of their most respected number, the docile and delightful Pushover, departed us this week. Your rocktop photos and off-lead scrambles will be sorely missed. Your last hash was the tri-hashlon, and in tribute our run on the 25h January will feature a bone-shaped sweety stop. On with the evening's less important news (as I am sure Pushover would have wanted it), we opted to stick with the fast forward symbols for the novelty factor, particularly as Inchworm made his stance against setting fish hooks plain for all to hear. The constellations were out in force too, and at the start we face our own Big Dipper of a St Georges Hill down into the back streets of Easton-in-Gordano, passing rival local The King's Arms en route. One of our favourite buildings, a church, awaited us after a football pitch crossing, and the tempo was upped by a cacophony of bell tolls as we passed – clearly whoever was inside wanted to show us the ropes. Back on tarmac, we interrupted one driver's 10-point turn and mostly bypassed a runners' loop with views of the Avon bridge. Those who did run found we were entering a no-cold-calling zone, in particular the catching-up Deep Throat, but shouting “On On” seemed acceptable enough. One quick regroup later, we ignored the temptation of sustenance via the local Co-op and instead sped downhill towards the merriment of Pill harbour – first there was a sweet stop with fruit pastilles and marshmallows at Pump Square, next there was the viewing spectacle of Walrus and REWIND hashing/crawling through the shiggy below, and there was even time to head the wrong way, seemingly for the sake of another lovely view of the bridge. Here the runners (and several walkers too) fled up a steep grassy knoll with complimentary shiggy – after ducking, diving and wading the BRBs saw the throng gathered on yonder mound. Those in hope of a luxury early beer stop were to be disappointed, though, as the stop was merely for the entertainment value of squeezing Deep Throat, Markus, Rebore and Flour Power into a small box – or was it a bin? So entertaining it was that REWIND and Limpet chose to sit down and watch it, but they were soon back on their hashy feet when they heard of another runners' route around neighbouring Ham Green. Soon after, none of us had any qualms about regrouping in front of a fire station – it was a far bigger offence to block the road home of one resident driver (darn – disgruntled members of the public two weeks in a row!). Toys duly back in the pram, we remained on the up and shiggy in time to reach a splendid beer stop – bombay mix, carrot sticks, orange juice and cider – good health! Good exercise too – few could resist a zip wire we may well have used previously (we haven't damaged it yet though) and Turbo could not resist spicing up Ballsport's go on a tyre swing. We resisted leaving either of them behind and proceeded Rudgleigh-ward, and what a stumble over the finishing line it was. First there was a pile-up at an immovable gate with hounds all lifted/flung over the top, then there was Rebore, Call Girl and Limpet choosing their own On In (not good enough for ya, eh?) and last and least there was Brigadoon, Ballsport, Drop 'Em and Cinderella missing a turning on Backchat's special muddy route, arriving 10 minutes overdue. That closing comedic caper was for you, Pushover.
CIRCLE: Fair to say that virgin Michelle, who had been informed of us by Never Enough, was very lucky to do a near-2 hour hash on her first appearance; very few others had been fair, though. Tumbling Ted had tried to trip his colleagues with a dog lead, short-cutters were Giddy Up and Never Enough, Cinderella failed in his duty to welcome a virgin and Maggie and Deep Throat got the usual treatment for bothering to turn up when late. Down downs finished with the 4 late finishers and the 4 “bogs in the box” from the mound earlier, we all know by now who they are...
ON ON ON: The room was as cosy as last time, and thankfully this time it was Winter. Brown and white cheesy and meaty sandwiches were plenty enough to take home a few spare, complimented by chips, after 8s and pecan cakes to celebrate Fondue's un-un-un-birthday. Two more pieces of compensatory good news – Smacker is lining up another hashing weekend in Pembrokeshire in a fortnight and next week's hash is at The Star on Rhodyate Hill. If the food is a quarter as good as it was last time at The Star, we are in for a treat.
Run number 278, 4th January 2012.
WHERE:
The Ring O'Bells, Nailsea.
HARES: Happy Hooker and REWIND.
WHO: 20 hashers plus hound Lollipop.
RUN REPORT: New year, new symbol – while warming up with Father Abraham the runners were told to follow fast forward arrows; ingenious! We began with an “on-hare” past the Holy Trinity Church to see Nailsea's oldest building – Tithe Barn, looking anything but dilapidated. An inspiration, then, to drive ourselves onwards through the rain and wind. As of January 4th residents are well within their rights to keep their Christmas lights up, and they helped us to meander through the first few neighbourhood turns and past Hannah Moore Infants School (most of us were behaving like juniors at this stage). The runners then braved a turnback and a couple of shiggy specialities before a headlight-illuminated regroup (that's headlight, not head torch), and then the throng took to a very long straight with plenty of red herring checkpoints to tease the FRBs. Joe Public got in on the act, too – first there was Lollipop squaring up to a couple of non-hash hounds, then there was a hashers contingent playing “after you – no, I insist” with a perplexed driver. The stakes were then raised even higher by diving into a woody trail, whereby Happy Hooker briefly led the BRBs into the wrong field – this cost us a whopping 2 minutes of time that could have been spent gorging on Quality Streets. As it was, we arrived at the distant sweet stop after crossing a couple of football pitches and found the goodies more or less intact – particular attention was being paid instead to running repairs for Cinderella's head torch. Once he saw the light, we were “on the road again, just couldn't wait to get OFF the road again” - we obliged by taking runners' and walkers' loops around a park which Happy Hooker christened “the park behind Tesco”. On past Scotch Horn Leisure Centre we dashed (no doubt making the gymnasts inside green with envy) and a choice of two ways to reach the High Street – thankfully neither road led to Rome. Not so thankful, more sinful, was the decision by several to bypass a subway route with marks on the ceiling again, but at least they displayed Bogs' contempt for traffic in the process. Around suburbia (including the swings on the website photo which we again ignored – too dark!) we went in search of a beer stop – after rejecting the proposal of an indoor one at Duracell's, we opted for one in an archway instead. While enjoying red grapes, pears, cider and apple juice we incurred another resident's wrath for being too noisy – thankfully it was just a ticking off, not an issuing of an ASBO, and so on we sheepishly went. We even got the slight “punishment” of a wet, windy and winding finish, but testimony to the hares' excellent planning was the church tolling 9 as we On-Inned past it. Bellisimo!
CIRCLE: Indoors and away from the elements, we decided that although it seems perfectly normal for a Walrus to splash a Limpet, on the hash it warrants a down down. Meanwhile there was a tribute to Markus and Giddy Up reaching 10 trails apiece last week, and a welcome to Katrina from Portishead who wanted to try something different – now, who can think of a better New Year's resolution than that?
ON ON ON: Fast Forward turned up in our little alcove as we tucked into chips galore plus baguettes with ice cream (everyone tells me it was actually butter, but I had my baguette bare so I cannot testify). A joyful discovery too that we will be hashing on February 29th this year – any special “leap” theme suggestions will be warmly welcomed.

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