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Run 458, 10th December 2014.
The Kings Arms, Pill.
HARES: Cinders and Walky Talky.
WHO: About 20 houndless hashers and 3 visitors.
RUN REPORT: After huddling under shelter for a debrief for which THREE virgins were extremely grateful if a little perplexed, we headed On Out with the surviving flour and the weatherman seemed to get the hint, at least slowing the rain that had been coming in waves during the hares' intro. Hashing reality soon bought the best out of the virgins on a runners' loop around the cemetery – sadly though the next checkpoint did not point up through the shiggy which really would have tested them, instead the throng stuck to the tarmac and quickly came to marvel at a plethora of Christmassy lights around the neighbourhood – Walrus's themed run next week will do well to match it. At this point wise head Rebore insisted he had seen Inchworm arriving late earlier (along with Double D and Zider who by now had already caught up) but was dismissed as insane by those who dared listen – I imagine that made both of their yogurt coated ginger and fruit pastilles taste much sweeter at said stop. Nonetheless navigation remained the FRBs' prerogative – Eager's “On One” appeared to startle a non-hasher disguised as one – and after finding the right branch off from a steep hill via trial and error. Behold the best way to lose your virginity – a deep trough of shiggy with more than a couple of head torches starting to show their age, albeit with nice views of the silhouetted Avon bridge thrown in for the atmos. By the time we touched down on tarmac again the homing instinct told us we were a mere 6 stone throws from the pub, but we had new members to teach and thus any criminal short-cutting was avoided (especially as it was still prior to 8:30) and instead it was back uphill for a slightly early beer stop, tucked away from traffic:
CIRCLE AND ON IN: While quickly sharing out some satsumas, latecomers Zider, Double D and Inchworm taught the virgins how to get a free drink of cider or apple juice (2 if you don't remove that hat, Zider), and then they taught us the names they will soon lose in place of handles – Katie, Sam and Nadia. A happy birthday too to classic hare Cinderella, all 720 months of him but still never seen traversing the trail in a pumpkin coach. Clearly there was a long On In to be had, and we even managed to teach the virgins about the turnback before heading through an up, left, right, tumbledown slalom of trees next to the M5 services (returnees Tumbling Ted and Harenet somehow managing not to live up to their handles) and then for the final straight a field come quagmire best sprinted through to avoid sinking. Once again thanks to the weather, we were determined to take half of Pill back with us!
ON ON ON: We were promoted from back room to main bar for a quickly dismantled spread of pork pies and DIY chip butties (white and wholemeal), spurred on no doubt by the arrival of food disposal Brigadoon plus Ballsport and Deep Throat near the end. Xmas Lights Camera Action for next week...
Run 457, 3rd December 2014.
The Salthouse, Clevedon. Followed by Christmas Meal.
HARES: Happy Hooker and Walrus.
RUN REPORT to follow:

Run 455, 19 November 2014.
The White Lion, Nailsea.
HARES: Zider I Up Landlord, Double D and sister of Double D.
WHO: 10 Hashers plus two après Hashers.
RUN REPORT: Zider I up and Double D's generosity of Christmas Spirit was in early evidence tonight, giving us a delightful Hash through the suburbs of Nailsea with hardly a smidge of shiggy on any shoe. Round and about the leafy cycle paths and secluded lanes, green places and bushy ways. An enjoyable route lead most of us to the drive of Zider I Up's sister; a real family affair tonight! Irish spew, speedy sensation that he is, bypassed the Beer stop altogether and sped straight to the Pub. His trusty Beer Radar brought him back in time for the Beer Stop Down Down.
ON ON ON: A buffet awaited us and every offering was wolfed down.
Run 454 and AGPU, 12th November 2014.
The Railway Inn, Yatton.
HARE: Deep Throat.
WHO: 14 hashers, 2 hounds and 3 AGPU visitors.
RUN REPORT: Again a slightly watered down throng, but worth it to elect anybody unwilling to a new role in their absence. A quick canter was on the cards out through several checkpoints and turnbacks – one of the latter in particular with dotted blobs after it which we felt compelled to ignore briefly. After ascending a metre or so to a viewpoint there came a little trial and error to find the right way on back to Yatton's On-In for cars, with a fish hook for those five who wanted to leave anyone behind and a 6th who had left his arithmetic at home. Some had noticed a falsie while driving to the Inn earlier, and thankfully the non-hashing community were trustworthy enough not to rub it out in less than half an hour of it being unaccompanied. For t'were not the case, then some may have just headed back to the pub without chocolate gingers at the beer stop, let alone without cider. Upon resuming, Deep Throat was as autocratic as necessary to make us do the whole route, seeing as we were walking back past the Inn for an On In that took in the Strawberry Line and the compulsory railway footbridge. It worked for all but one; see attached!
CIRCLE: Umpteenth congratulations for master soloist DT, followed by near-umpteenth down down for Brigadoon finishing early, Eager wrongly doing a fish hook and Alice corner cutting at a zebra crossing. We seem to forget to be on our best behaviour when RA and eagle-eyed hare are present!
ON ON ON: Joined by Double D, Zider-I-UP-Landlord and Down and Dirty, a mountain of tiger bread and sandwiches accompanied by two mountain lakes of chicken soup and minestrone for the annual role-up. We all quickly concurred that Bogs has earned a pay rise to £2 for food and whatever lavish bonus will come for October's 500th run, as well as hopefully bringing back Saturday hashes, a red dress run and livestock warnings prior to any bovine, ovine and equine trails. Now on to those tried and mostly trusted roles – Walky Talky will remain the statistically imposing statistician plus hare-raiser assistant to Walrus elected in his absence, Brigadoon will be assistant RA to the far from evangelical Cinders, Fondue will lend a helping pen to Eager Beaver where needed, and hash cash will go the way of Kerb Crawler and Rocky Horror, with paperazzi Happy Hooker and Brigadoon there to photograph the evidence. Here's too to re-elected GM Deep Throat, nose definitely still intact and still keeping everything Bogs ticking over very nicely.
Run 453, November 5th 2014.
The Phoenix Bar, Portishead.
HARE: Inchworm.
WHO: 13 hashers, 1 hound and 1 most welcome visitor.
RUN REPORT: For this pyrotechnic hash clashing with the 409th anniversary of the gunpowder plot, numbers were a little thin on the ground, made up for thus by plenty of flour. Those who parked in Brampton Way pretended they hadn't seen the On In symbol therein and thus frog-marched everyone into a false; from there on it was mostly up, up and away with the walkers if you wanted to grace Portishead's dizzying heights and play chicken with traffic. One set of passing youngsters were sufficiently stirred to ask us if we had just been caving (what with those eccentric head torches) – 3 months ago they would have been right, but actually for the time being we had enough street lighting to conserve power a little before emerging with our latest viewpoint of the Severn. With Flour Power now boldly, if inexplicably, among the runners we tumbled down through the tall grass towards the marine lake, just in time for the real walkers to emerge from the right. Up ahead we all thought we saw a sparkler stop and understandably sprinted towards it; however it was specially for non-hashers so we decided to regroup right next to the spectacle anyway and count our lost heads. After convincing ourselves that sole hound Sparky was included in the head count of 14 from earlier, we duly split speeds again and the runners found a concealed exit from the marine lake running track, followed by another hidden footpath on the approach to East Wood (so hidden that Rewind was briefly convinced the On On led through the adjacent driveway). As the gunpowder continued to explode in droves above us, we at least had the respite of tree shelter and the distraction of a very slippery downhill with a miraculous zero victims, even if some kept pace better than others. Alongside the Royal Inn the speeds were split again with walkers again skirting the estuary and runners wowing at Portishead's growth spurt from a few years ago – yet once the sweet stop beckoned next to the lock another head count really did indicate a discrepancy – Eager Beaver who emerged from neither walker nor runner approach route only just in time to snaffle the last 4 wine gums on offer. Flour Power at this point decided to scuttle back to the pub as the crow would fly, lest she suffer a similar fate. Well, we didn't get lost for the remainder, but we did come to the realisation that time had become gold rather than money, and so one remaining runners' route was designated for consistent runners only. The cause? Perhaps a little over-enthusiasm at Mrs Rocky Horror's beer stop, viz:
CIRCLE: Mulled cider with solid and liquid apple and orange made this a trendy garage beer stop tucked away from the fireworks and elements (we had even discovered a dud on the way around), during which we toasted Inchworm's 25th hash haring and Eager Beaver's second time he got lost on the hash in 3 and a half years. On In went as smoothly as all the displays that were on, culminating in a familiar but always welcome final straight. Now, what haute cuisine had the Phoenix allowed us to ship in this time?
ON ON ON: Cosy conservatory – check. Enough baguettes, Cheddar, Brie, goat's cheese, salad and chutney for 3 apiece – check. Backchat making a VIP return? Fabulous! A great thing to call On On then for next week's AGPU at the Railway Inn in Yatton. Role up! Role up!
Run 452, 29nd October 2014.





The Old Barn, Wraxall.
HARES: Happy Hooker and REWIND.
WHO: 23 Hashers. Some hounds including a very cute fluffy one.
RUN REPORT: Curiouser and curiouser are Hashes with a touch of REWIND. The walkers outed from the car park, in line, holding onto a blue rope. Then it was squelch squelch and often very big squelch all the way there and all the way back. "There" was a gassy old pond, still and eerie, the occasional bubble breaking the green surface. Bag Lady spoke of its mysterious ways. Happy Hooker got Hashing and sea swimming confused and went for a dip in a swamp. Irish Spew showed a predilection for cow pats...then had a deep and meaningful with Coppertone about carbon "Dating". A tricky blue rope bridge traverse completed the night.
DOWN DOWN AND ON-INN: Eager Beaver, Dressing Down and Up All Night joined the party. Shiggy Shakes (Orange juice and coke) - yuk! were given to our two Hares. Duracell brought two new ladies, Nancy and Alison, whose trainers were well and truly initiated and will never be the same again. Shared food, very yummy.
Run 451, 22nd October 2014.
The Woodborough Inn, Winscombe.
HARE: Tumbling Ted.
WHO: 17 hashers, 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: The hare guaranteed no shiggy and a dry run – and he told the truth! ....but only for those who took the walking route. Some unprintable comments came out from the running pack when, after trying to keep to the high ground at the side of a muddy track for 5 minutes or so, we were faced with an ankle-deep lake filling the track with large amounts of shiggy under the water, and no way other than straight through it. Then the calling fell to a very quiet level as we passed through a churchyard and took the view that loud shouts of ARE YOU? and ON ON wouldn’t go down very well with the choir singing sweetly inside. A few well-timed runners and walkers meet ups, separations and meet ups again showed Tumbling’s haring skills, as did copious amounts of flour laid through the many fields on the route and the fact that he managed to avoid the Strawberry Line throughout the whole hash – surely a first for Winscombe.
ON ON: No beer stop on the hash, so we were back at the pub for 8:50 for some very nice beer and sandwiches (except for PJ Harvey who was banished to the car because he had too many legs to be allowed in with folks that were eating).
CIRCLE: Well - a sausage shape really, as we stayed sat next to our empty plates and let the hare get on with drinking it down down down...
Run 450, 15th October 2014.
Uncombe Close, Backwell, then Backwell Village Club.
HARES: Rewind and Happy Hooker.
WHO: 18 hashers, 1 hound and 4 visitors.
RUN REPORT: After a top secret rendezvous in one of Backwell's dark back streets, one of our most devious hare duos sent us up towards the saturated summit of Backwell, promising no regroups, sweet stop or beer stop! Say it couldn't be so – after splitting speeds in amongst the shiggy the walkers made their way through the tall grass towards the Jubilee Obelisk – the plan was for walkers to be well ahead by this stage, but with Deep Throat playing catchup and the only runners being "real" ones, there turned out a need for a regroup after all. Time too for a possible new recruit to happen upon us and interrogate us as to what hashing up above Backwell is – we feel our answers acquitted us as well as the flour leading onwards did. Over a busy road and up past the quarry, those with 5 month memories were fearful of the same territorial bovine herd that had made us scale barbed wire before, but tonight it was only their shiggy that we had to negotiate. For all my recent recce-ing up here, Happy Hooker and Rewind had still managed to locate a cliff-side trail which I had missed – Hooker even managed to top off his chivalry by stamping down the mild electric fences for us to hurdle (thick rubber soles worn by this heart-warming soul). A lot of up had been on the agenda so far and none of us had a parachute, so sadly some discipline had to be instilled on a steep shiggy slope back down to civilisation. Once there nobody appeared injured by the multiple low bridges or afflicted with altitude sickness, so you can just imagine the ecstasy that briefly greeted a BN symbol out near the church – that's right, Bells Near! Ho-hum, just a quick canter down to the start of the trail then, as well as an equine shiggy minefield between there and the village club! Well, we do practice intricate foot work week in, week out...
CIRCLE: Indoors and with the addition of Down & Dirty, Rocky Horror, Briggy and Ballsport, little to report save for Rewind having acquired Walrus's head sock and the trail declared not steep enough, not even for mountaineering stalwart Coppertone. All's well back at Backwell.
ON ON ON: Our last visit here served up a ploughman's feast, and so again here. HH brought out baguettes galore and a selection of cheeses that may even have kept Wallace and Gromit happy, even if Wensleydale was absent. A competitive spirit was also kept up with some handy bar skittles which we soon mastered – on on for possibly speeding around Winscombe next week.
Run 449, 8th October 2014.
Melbournes, formerly The Anchor, Pill.
HARES: Rocky Horror and Alice.
WHO: 25 hashers, 1 hound plus pub-sitter Coppertone.
RUN REPORT: Full moon or no full moon, there was little preparing us for the unscripted events of this bitter-tasting Pill. At On Out the hares warned of a roadside walkers' route to begin with and let the runners invent their own back alley across the village green, blobbing down an arrow once enough head torches had briefly vanished from sight. Through bracken we hacked 'em until hitting cruise control on the straight down to a speed split – unsuspecting FRBs hurdled the looming speed bumps as if they were deep-sleeping policemen, but just as they pondered where to head at a regroup the bump took offence to our dearest GM, tripping DT and turning the trail rose-red! Thankfully a first aid kit was on our itinerary, and Bag Lady took to escorting the walking wounded back along and up the walkers' trail. With potential boy racers to avoid as well, the walkers decided they had had their half-hourly dose of excitement and stood idling at a back-road regroup only long enough for Sparky and Irish Spu to catch up – the rest were of course in for the trail's NEXT surprise. On this narrow lane we got sandwiched between two cars with hardly anywhere to duck or dive into, but still the drivers were curious enough to lean out and offer questions rather than road rage. No way on but down and up – by now we happened ever so conveniently upon the Rudgleigh Inn, inconveniently without an early beer stop, but at least we now mostly knew where we were plodding. Even the walking/semi-bleeding fraternity were able to solve their own checkpoint with the runners out on a wild limb, and then were given a helpful nose-shove by surrounding (albeit fenced-off) equines towards the imminent sweet stop. Sucky sherbets, tangy haribo and very fruity pastilles quickly de-materialised, and yet the flour just kept on-a-coming all the way down to Pill Harbour (a still somewhat limping Limpet managed the stairs with aplomb), where after another regroup we decided against Rambo-ing through the road-come-river (river Avon at very high tide right now) and stuck to the upper footpath. Another home run was completed by the runners en route uphill to on of our classic viewpoints on a mound overlooking the Avon bridge, though many may by now have been too cider-oriented to notice. And so after a few more checkpoints and what looked suspiciously like a gallivanting off hare, the beer stop beckoned in amongst what few trees we had encountered this wild and not so wet night.
CIRCLE: Motoring offences dictated the court proceedings (still no reason though to miss out on Cider) – DT for a speed bump in more ways than one, Zider-I-Up-Landlord for what presumably wasn't a real car theft and probably everyone else for not holding up those back-drivers for long enough. Good too that most could throw a stone from there to Melbournes, since now it decided it wanted to precipitate after all. On Indoors!
ON ON ON: DIY chip butties had indeed not been wolfed down by stalwart Coppertone – from my brief glimpse indoors there should have been plenty of space and warmth for the gang who tend to Bog a pub down. So despite the ominous beginnings, tonight ended up as no Rocky Horror Show.
Run 448, 1st October 2014.

The Ship, Uphill, W-s-M (the Wear a Onesie Hash).
HARES: One big Tigger and one little Tiger (aka Ballsport and Brigadoon).
WHO: A handful or so of Hashers and a hound or two.
RUN REPORT: A varied bunch of Hashers set off, some onesied, some nonesied. Cinders came with one 'C' on his shirt, so clever, so whimsical....Yet to be named Claire appeared so convincingly ready for bed, a cup of Horlicks and a quiet corner would surely have done it. Briggy (Big Tigger) took a tumble but bounced right back. Rocky nearly lost his Jim jams 'cause he hasn't learnt how to tie them up yet. And we all went upping and downing, to-ing and fro-ing over Uphill's imposing hill, swarming randomly, torches alight, like giant fire flies looking for the On on. Lost once again in what must be the smallest wood in the world, it was clear that many of us had left our sense of direction behind alongside out sensible clothes.
CIRCLE: as normal.
ON ON: Sarnies and stuff.

Run 447, 24th September 2014.
The Salthouse, Clevedon.
HARE: Happy Hooker.
WHO: 23 Hashers and 4 Hounds.
RUN REPORT (by this weeks Hash Trash, Fondue): Happy Hooker, despite being on the cusp of "older age", didn't hold back. A speedy trail for the runners saw them blasting up Poets Hill then furiously off and away between land and sea to the sound of a strangulated bugle. Irish Spew had a strong desire to chuck Sparky in the sea - Sparky had other ideas though. Good on you Sparks. Soggy Balls got soggy feet - no connection I hope. The walkers meanwhile followed at a more sedate pace receiving an occasional spray of salty sea water. Fireworks exploded in the sky paying homage to HH's impending great age. Been at more than the baking powder Fairweather?
CIRCLE: Beer Stop and Circle was at HH's and Fairweather's house where Fairweather's special awaited us. Hashy Birthday in all it's wonderful juvenile form was sung to the nearly birthday boy, who still had sufficient lung power to splutter all over Fairweather's luscious chocolate cake which within moments was a mere crumb or two on the plate.
ON ON ON: At the Salthouse. Goodly amounts of sarnies and chips. And the welcome addition of DT and Down and Dirty.
Run 446, 17th September 2014 – joint run with K&A!
The Stoke Inn, Chew Stoke.
HARES: Walky Talky and Fat Controller.
WHO: 31 hashers and 5 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Already out on these moorlands the days feel like they could not get any shorter, nor the runs any wilder, and yet exactly that became this well attended Bogs and Kennet & Avoners hybrid, in amongst the back streets and shiggies of well preserved Chew Stoke. After another initiation of the Gridlock game in the car park we warmed up in our heads and located the correct On Out through a bit of trial and error and a bit of co-hare shouting. Having already seen every building for miles around we aptly ended up on a steepened grassy knoll for the runners which also encapsulated a hibernating football pitch, all as part of a loop back to the walkers with their engines still firing away. All save for Rebore who decided that his legs were boss and retreated to “babysit” the impending chips back at the Inn. With a mostly starless sky now forcing the head torches to earn the keep, a fair few hazards preceded the sweety stop on a classic hasher lane. First there was a checkpoint with On On through a narrow hedge (as if we didn't all look like we'd been dragged through one), then slightly more assertive cattle than usual before crossing a road on a blind bend – most bogs would tell you this is safer at night than day. All intact and with the hounds doing a lot of the pulling and rousing, sweets both chewy, tangy and pastilley were shared out and a charge called the only way on there could be – through shiggy both fauna and flora and thankfully without fish hooks if you were an FRB (they did not go down that well with the K&As when we tried to enforce them last Summer). All could be grateful for happening upon the back alley encountered twice previously from Chew Magna joint runs – this at least brought back some of our bearings as a couple of runners' loops came close together, one around the crops and the other around a rugby field. For some slightly lagging walkers the arrows suddenly became a lot bolder and longer, while head torches were not to be confused with floodlights in the distance, and just to keep up with the catchup theme an impromptu third speed split was laid down on the way back to the roadside On In. With Briggy and Ballsport among these back markers there would surely have been no crisis, even if they would possibly still be out there at the time of writing. On In was stencilled on the pavement as the increasingly more popular “ON-NN!”, perhaps a sign of the struggles to crawl over the finishing line. Now for us all to stoke up at the Stoke...
CIRCLE: The scandals of the Ass continue to haunt Tumbling Ted – keeping his clothes ON was seen as a more serious crime than Floyd flashing and Dolly leading some FRBs astray and within half a mile of incoming traffic. Plaudits of course to the joint hares with differing symbol traditions – we work with everyone but not for everyone.
ON ON ON: So what had Rebore saved for us? Non-veggie sausages, of course, all with bread as butty-worthy as fresh baked and enough chips for Briggy to stake a claim to extras afterwards. Brown sauce too for the hashing kings, talking of which On On for Happy Hooker's quarter century of hares but one mere week away (one day in hash jargon).
Run 445, 10th September 2014.
The Old Inn, Clevedon.
HARE: Deep Throat.
WHO: 18 hashers and 2 hounds.
RUN REPORT: Fortune favoured the brave souls who ventured up into Court Woods on an eerie and rapidly darkening evening. Even as we On Outed along the gravel track and into a turnback where many had parked up, a sense of “not in the script” was coming to fore. Nothing amiss about our favoured entry into the woods (lots of shiggy to sink into despite this Indian Summer) but then flour there came little on a speed split. In years gone by school leavers would throw flour bombs along this road; perhaps these days they collect flour up in the week they go back? Whatever the cause of sabotage (no, DT would never do it deliberately) a long wait for back runners occurred for the...er...walkers at the first regroup, in time for there to be little light left penetrating the thicket. Head torches were whipped out and shared almost as sparingly as five loaves and two fish – no such luck for those with a sweet tooth as chocolate ginger goodies made light work of fair shares at the sweet stop in a pit many struggled to get out of in the dark. There was even the minor threat of health and safety red tape creeping in – first Briggy and Ballsport retraced their steps to the pub (perhaps some truly extraordinary commitment on the last week had worn them out?), and then Swallow had a potentially nasty trip and fall in amongst the tree routes – enough for Down & Dirty to wisely insist on surrounding lights for those who may struggle to get back up again. A lot of the grandmaster's markings did either remain coherent or discreetly laid by him after calling, and so a near cliffhanger of a descent seemed within our capabilities provided we held hands rather than locking horns and that our batteries were those of Duracell (bunny, not hasher). The sound of the road had never been so welcome as we emerged via a freshly strimmed back-route that previously has threatened to swallow us whole, and now that we were almost past 9pm it seemed most apt that the beer near symbol appeared to have remained the most intact.
CIRCLE: Back on the gravel track we shared out some refreshing apple, pear, orange juice and cider along with the executive decision that there were too many crimes to notice in the dark, but also too many total hashes for REWIND to possibly ignore – a reasonably round and well nigh amazing total of 350. Also a quarter century of Bogs runs for Alice and Gender Bender, plus bestowing the handle of "Floyd" upon Neville after one of Pink Floyd's songs (sorry – not sure which one – perhaps High Hopes in light of this evening?)
ON ON ON: Classic Old Inn set up with the Wednesday quiz in full flow, trays of chips and multiple grain sarnies and a cosy back room. A good taster for a joint run with K&A on the morrow week
Run 444, 7th September 2014.

Early Doors Cider & Ale Bar, Draycott (The Bogs ASSHash Gorgeous Weekend continued).
HARES: Brigadoon, Ballsport and Irish Spew.
WHO: 43 hashers and 3 hounds.
RUN REPORT: A smaller portion than we suspected had shut up tent and called it a weekend, leaving the tapas feast at the cider bar surely destined to be light work even after our gregarious gorging a mere mile away. Why not then work up a hunger in temperatures certainly hotter than an Indian Summer? Irish Spu was rumoured to be having some troubles completing the trail upon our arrival, so perhaps this was the motivation to send the runners on a long road to nowhere and back again twice in the first half of this warm-down. They were both hills touching the West Mendip Way, of course, and after a few fence and stile hurdles the walkers were soon located on the back end of Draycott, with Irish Spu and Sparky turning up at the same time for good measure (no vomit or urine stains apparent). The natural follow up was a regroup at the Strawberry Special Inn – as in Strawberry Line rather than stalked fruit and with a railway signal opposite which was hopefully fake. After practically everyone had violated the hash code with a sit down, speeds were split and the runners (plus a clearly enthusiastic Coppertone) headed on a long loop with lots of shiggy traps – clearly the speed was slowed to just the right degree since a near collision occurred once the two tribes intersected. After shouting "petrol" or the more non-bog-bemusing "ka-ka" a few times the On In beckoned over a bridge with a photo op for Briggy with a mannequin and a big carrot – work that one out yourself. Knock knock early doors!
CIRCLE: Some bemoaned/complimented an excess of runner wild goose chases while calling up Let 'Em Die again for running a walker trail and assigning the Bogs handle Siemens (for more info consult the namesake app on your phone), but a reminder too next year to bring a crown for Brigadoon's efforts rather than merely 43 cheers and down downs. On and more of the same!
ON ON ON: "Wanted to set another amazing ass hash – Brigadoon" thanks to a little photoshopping from Friday evening. Our English tapas (pickled onions, chutney, crackers and cheddar compulsory, all else complimentary) did not last long either thanks to a disorderly queue and an appetite that we could hardly have worked up with mere sing songs around burning embers. On on for the Golden Old Inn – quite a cosy contrast to a fab weekend under the tents and marquees.
Run 443, 6th September 2014
Cheddar Bridge Touring Park, encompassing a pub or 5 – ASS HASH 2!
HARES: Brigadoon & Ballsport.
WHO: 56 hashers, 2 dinner ladies, 4 visitors and 3 dogs.
RUN REPORT: The moment we had all been hash house harriering for! Many did not technically awaken to Briggy's breakfast bar since adjacent church bells had been going all night, but for those needing a wake up there was all the hash brown, black pud, other bits of little piggy and some scrumptous jam courtesy of Call Girl to instigate a day's huffing and puffing. We promptly headed uphill out of the campsite and thus made the bendy road a lot safer, and with a long ascent quickly on the cards over but a fifth of the West Mendip Way, the flour for backmarking was almost inevitably going to end up near the back. Fortunately sticks and stones were used to construct arrows – breaking our bones could be left for any imminent trip ups. Checkpoints were marked out in red circles of the portable variety, and it was one of these that led to a very lengthy search for the right route at the foot of Mascall's Wood – the way that featured ducks and dives seemed almost inevitable, particularly as the altimeter in our heads was about to go into overdrive. By now walkers had indeed been sent on a circumnavigation of sorts, avoiding the trail in purple or blue tissue depending on how much water vapour remained. The slope, however, shall remain as long as the Gorge – none but a hybrid of Turbo, REWIND and Walrus could have run this leviathan of a hill, and if they had they would have missed Somerset's greatest viewpoint at the top – Cheddar Reservoir, the foot of the Gorge, Brent Knoll and possibly even a far distant Crooks Peak all rolled into the blinking of an eye. And yet for those runners wanting to exercise braun as well as hashing brain the biggest technical challenge was yet to come – while wondering how the walkers' route could have pailed in comparison, the looming drops into the Gorge came sailing into view – a parachute would have ensured an entrance to Beer Stop 1 every bit as gracious as the joint effort of Daniel Craig and HRH at London 2012, but also would have led to the ignominy of missing out on a trot up and down Cheddar's very own Jacob's Ladder. Astonishingly there was no fish hook at the bottom of the ladder either, instead merely the switch to yellow arrows to catch up with them thar walking fraternity. Indian Summer it most certainly was – at the nice and spacious Galleries pub we made very light work of still cool beers plus the surrounding refreshing sweet stuff (“come into my parlour” said the ice cream). Senses restored, the walkers were given a prompt headstart up the somewhat hazardous road through the Gorge (not that a pack of non-hashing skateboarders appeared to be discouraged) followed by ther runners who had a trio of fresh fish hooks just to make the road seem that much more intestinal. After feeling like we had came, saw and conquered our second leviathan of the weekend, the oh so glorious sight of a second ber stop appeared on the entrance to Black Rock nature reserve over the road – manning the food fort were dinner ladies Dragon Lady and Down & Dirty, somehow having not wolfed down the drinks, Haribo, Mydear-a cakes, baguettes, pate, salad bowls et al on display. Packing that lot away would beat the exertion of many a hash, so numbers stayed the same as we began the skirting of Black Rock again at high altitude, thankfully with no suspected fish hook atop the steps and with a couple of cliffhanger viewpoints of the Gorge made of cheese, just in case there were some senses of adventure not yet satisfied. Clearly satisfied enough were the hares to take a quick detour and hand the backmarking responsibility over to Eager Beaver, even if he wasn't as sparing as them and tempted briefly to mark the viewpoint as On On. It had, therefore, to be a quick stroll down towards our next pub stop, especially as some scandalous news needed time to be digested – it turned out Fu Manchu had been sent via some discrepancies on the lengthy and steep runners' route earlier, thus explaining his stumbling down the Jacob's Ladder to catch up with us at this late afternoon hour. Well, whatever damage there had been appeared to be masked by the beverages at the White Hart, the ice creams next door (I'm surprised there isn't a cheese flavour) and the witticisms of Sewer Rat and his offspring's offspring, but Briggy decided on his own wise precaution of live announcements for the next uphill speed split. While the walkers took second place along Silver Street the runners aimed for gold up in some more quarried woodland, while somehow avoiding any confusion with runners' arrows set for last night's warmup. Even if there was one premature “On On” too many on the way back down, it was another nice touch for Brigadoon to lead the runners' orderly march towards the King's Head (the King Headed there, get it? Oh, never mind...) and supply yet another pub with probably about their weekly average turnover. Still nobody save the soggy-balled had reached the stage of worse for drink, not even in directional terms as we relied on metaphorical running water to reach the next pit stop at the Riverside Inn – here we camped out on benches and decided not to wait around for the advertised jazzfest – a campfire later would surely suffice to make our own. Limbs were certainly wearying by the time we formed a couple more circles at the Bath Arms again further downtown (indeed those on kitchen duty had already departed). So after a couple of helpings of bar snacks and Somerset's finest to do all the soaking up, it was back to the campsite for the ultimate circle. What with all that walking along a busy road unescorted to get back home though, perhaps we should have instead triangulated...
CIRCLE: What an ass! No song other than the selected “Grand Old Duke of York” would have sufficed for the tried, trusted and borderline worshipped joint haring effort of Brigadoon and Ballsport, as much before as during thischeesy half marathon. Of all the scandals we had to cover most noteworthy would probably be a toss up between Soggy Balls' late night bar shenanigans and sending Fu Manchu around what must have felt like Mount Fuji – step forward Let 'em Die, how potentially ironic. We also had the inadvertent acrobatics of Gender Bender and Waynetta, Irish Spu and Sparky vomiting and urinating where they shouldn't have (though both presumably done to mark their territory), Missapp and Swastika sitting out the front of the King's Head while everyone else comforted themselves with the patio, and Tumbling Ted briefly going au naturel to reinstall his lost underwear. Tributes too to Down & Dirty and Dragon Lady for their dinner lady exploits, Walrus and Eager for obeying every fish hook in the gorge and both a welcome and a naming for two Clevedonian virgins – Jackie quickly became Socks Off because of her peeling feet (no doubt a revolutionary new method of backmarking), while Jamie was christened Missing Link for presumably not having tuned his sense of direction enough on a very trying debut. Poor announcer Cinders was sounding quite hoarse by the time Rosie and Bumblebee had made the Hardy hashers' additional down downs and the raffle beckoned, but nonetheless had enough left in the tank to, among other prizes, hand out a non-crystal goblet for Waynetta, a raincoat for Flour Power and a dashing tutu for Coppertone.
ON ON ON: Campfire songs, stories and even a Yahtzee championship made appearances throughout what remained of day and night, and after finishing off all of Briggy's meat and four veg plus chocolate cake we even noticed the bells from the previous night dyng down a little for our well earned tent kip. After all, to drink up ye cider tomorrow we first needed to sleep off ye cider tonight.
Run 442, 5th September 2014 – ASS HASH 1!
Cheddar Bridge Touring Park, just outside somewhere that makes cheese.
HARES: Soggy Balls, Brigadoon and Walrus, or did I leave my memory in the bushes again?
WHO: 51 hashers, 2 hounds and 1 latecomer.
RUN REPORT: Half a hundred asses came out of their hastily but still well pitched tents for the commencement of dear Briggy's latest Somerset scrumpy – even if he found his own sneaky little way to the half way house while leaving other traditional back runners out on their own limb. With the entire throng headed hastily alongside the Cheddar Yeo (clean enough to see 2 feet to the bottom) a fish hook to add an extra half mile to the tally of 5 FRBs seemed as fair as could be – hashers without a bogs' dictionary certainly seemed to accept them with silent protests only. A particularly apt regroup beckoned as a foreshadowing of a lengthy trek along tarmac, with still plenty of time to take in the idyllic sightseers' surroundings (the distant Gorge was still beckoning us on for tomorrow now that we were approaching twlight). While proceeding more or less single file (if not speed) back in the compass point from whence we came we encountered a convoy of tractors clearly out to pick on someone smaller than they were (including a huffing, puffing and catching up Cinders, and still they failed) plus a driving school by the name of Going Places. Thankfully this segment of road was closed to human beings without hash handles, so the backrunners got on just fine there. Indeed a very well earned pint or however many were then promptly sunk at the Bath Arms after tackling Cheddar's slightly mouldy back streets. Perhaps mindful too of literally bigger challenges on the horizon, the remainder consisted of a frog-march/hare-hop to the well-furnished Black Dog Saloon at the foot of the Gorge. Possibly for the first time, Brigadoon took it upon himself to become the food critic – certainly we got a high quality of party grub and sarnies; not enough though to stop Eager and Down & Dirty sneaking off for battered sausage and chips. I guess then we would need one of HIS breakfasts to soak up all that cider. Come the end of the evening's festivities and some ferrying home along a daredevil road, a slightly tipsified Soggy Balls would certainly agree. Any chance of breakfast in tent?
Run 441, 3rd September 2014.
The Old Barn, Wraxall.
HARES: Eager Beaver and REWIND.
WHO: 24 Hashers and 2 Hounds.
RUN REPORT (by this weeks Hash Trash, Fondue): A Hash normally starts with explanations of flour hieroglyphics and warnings of danger en route. Not tonight, REWIND talked of orange peel and church bells. And so the intelligent and enlightened, together with the vacant and confused, set off on a very warm, sticky evening into the fields beyond the barn. Picturesque walkers routes and lengthy loops for runners kept both well apart. A long wait by walkers should have been a carry on with a catch up by the runners - oh well, best laid plans.... Still, a most enjoyable Hash and as it's beginning to get late early - a return to the Pub in the dark. Umm, should we have found orange peel? ON IN: Hash food tonight. And like the five loaves and fishes, the food just kept coming. Amazing sweet and savoury from Alice, (Mary Berry watch out) and a yummy chocolaty Turkish delighty thingy from Claire. And much more! Enough for little and big Hashy tummies to be filled up to bursting point.
Run 440, 27th August 2014.
The Captains Cabin, Weston-super-Mare.
HARES: Soggy Balls and Miss App.
WHO: 23 Hashers and two cute hounds of quite similar proportions.
RUN REPORT (by this weeks Hash Trash, Fondue): Weston Woods is clearly the playground of runners Soggy and Miss App, they most likely know every leaf and twig personally, thus is was that we quickly found ourselves scrambling about along it's many great paths and trails, somewhat protected from the rather threatening clouds above us. As darkness descended, Briggy, feeling frustrated, fiddled with his little torch, sadly producing very little life and eventually toddling in front of someone with a bit more verve in their equipment. Finally down to Prince Consort Gardens where fig rolls were munched against a backdrop of sparkly lights with the compliments of our Welsh cousins. And, I'm not gonna lie to you, I can't remember much about the Circle so, sadly, it shall remain forever unrecorded.
ON ON ON: A buffet! Chips! Fallen apples! And coleslaw sandwiches for the vegetarians...

Run 439, 20th August 2014.

The Rising Sun, Backwell.
HARES: Eager Beaver and Down and Dirty.
WHO: 11 Hashers and three colour coordinated Hounds.
RUN REPORT (by this weeks Hash Trash, Fondue): Eager Beaver, well known for his splendid Trihashlons, broke the pattern tonight with this single but no less splendid Hash from The Rising Sun. Runners and Walkers did their thing up through the quiet suburbs of Backwell, eventually passing houses longer than the road I live in. At the beginning of the woods we began our assent. Sneaky fish hooks and turn backs peppered the trail, keeping those manic runners in check. Wonderful views were enjoyed at the top. A beautiful setting sun and generous helpings of sweeties completed the picture. Finally after many enjoyable wanderings and views, we plunged into a black hole of a wood with a canopy so thick that no leaf was dappled. Lights on and maybe some of us at home,we made the steep descent to the Beer Stop.
CIRCLE: Done at Beer stop. A few naughty Hashers in a circle of shame for short cutting, and some for having the cheek to sit on both of theirs during the Hash. Briggy and Ballsport should been brought to justice for sloping off early, but they weren't there, cause they'd sloped off early. Usual complaints - too flat - too straight - no views...
ON ON ON: Just two plates of sandwiches on the Bar awaited our arrival. Bag Lady stared in disbelief, perhaps hoping it would help them multiply. Whatever she's got, it worked. We ended up with so many we didn't know what to with them, despite Ballsport eating some (which was a noteworthy occasion!)
Run 438, 13th August 2014.
The Ship, Portishead.
HARES: Inchworm, Bag Lady and Coppertone.
WHO: 28 hashers, 2 hounds and 1 latecomer.
RUN REPORT: An excellent turnout and with plenty of adventure to come with it among the sun and sea views. A lot of runners were present and so it seemed a good opening itinerary to send them downhill through a game of neighbourhood football and then the wrong way (inevitably the one assumed as correct by an anonymous hare) and then a steep uphill back in the direction of walkers, DT's semi-late arrival among them. Just to make sure no runners were lonely, a circuit of the race track at Skirmish (as if our outdoor pursuits weren't enough) kept them entertained, and since we were by this stage surrounded by a military backdrop Cinderella took up the chance to instigate a tune of “we are hashers...something...something...rhymes with hashers” just before what might have been a regroup but was actually deemed a smily face made of flour. Back runners Coppertone and a glamorous looking Cowslip thus had to wait 50 more metres to regroup, but at least the terrain pointed down momentarily for them. There was also a lovely view stretching out past the quarry and firearms training centre (a long, thin shadow on the horizon was presumably that of Inchworm), followed by a couple of incorrect On Ons while heading towards the entrance of Weston Big Wood. After wading through the tall grass and resisting the urge to take selfies next to some ruins, we entered the undergrowth and upward steps via a DIY zebra crossing and somehow word reached a disgruntled 6 FRBs that Zider-I-Up-Landlord and Double D were playing a successful game of catchup. Disgruntled because they had just collided head on with a fish hook for said amount, and ultimately their consciences lost the battle against their weary legs so the latecomers were forced to wait until a familiar sweet stop location to catch up fully. Worth the wait too – sweets left by the co-hares' grandkids were never going to last long among us big kids, and nor were the supplementary liquorices and the Meerkat shaped chewies to which othersweetsyoucan'tcompare.com. There still remained a climb or two en route to another inner child craving of the zip wire – unsuccessful efforts to break it were merely limited to Flour Power, Eager and Cowslip this time around. By now we both hoped for and anticipated a beer stop bonanza at the hares' maison supreme, but still a couple more goodies than we had imagined were to emerge. First there was Greek Delight swimming in powdered sugar, then oranges and nutty nibbles washed down with orange juice and cider – a necessary prompt gorging what with all we had to pay tribute to:
CIRCLE: Many happy returnees to Pork Scratchings, Flour Power, Cowslip, Lime Cordial and Bumbaye and a sunset-warming welcome to Matt and Lisa, the virgin acquaintances of Neville. On the crime front, there were 5 runners who paid the price for trusting Inchworm to know the On Out well enough, plus virtually all the walkers for deciding on a trail of their own - well, the white line has to be drawn somewhere. For a change we decided to actually work off a few of those beer stop calories rather than diving straight into the Ship's cargo hold – taking in a 10 minute On In which certainly tested Fondue's recuperating ankle, if not the four tiny limbs of Mudlark who had now assumed the role of leader. 9:15 we thus touched down; better be a good spread then.
ON ON ON: Like first class passengers aboard the Ship we commandeered the lounge and a dozen plates of sandwiches, pasties, scotch eggs, sausage rolls, for which we were as keen as mustard. Kerb Crawler turned up to mug us of our subs for which this scrumptious grub was well worth it – the treasurer was indeed the Ship's treasure trove. On On to the Rising Sun, where ironically head torches may make their first appearance for a season.
Run 437, August 6th 2014.

The Dew Drop Inn, Main Road, Flax Bourton.
HARES: Cinderella and Walky Talky.
WHO: 24 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: A stretch of the boundaries covered by Bogs, and thus plenty of unfamiliar territory to explore with the approval of Father Abraham in a spacious car park. The hares forewarned of narrow pavements alongside what shortly became the Long Ashton bypass, but dual carriageways our plans were not. Instead we quickly located a speed split out next to a set of goalposts/height restriction barriers (in truth only Inchworm would have needed to limbo under them), with a welcome return of the turnback (all 6 blobs of it) for the runners prior to crossing a railway bridge into a little more than nowhere. First we needed a regroup next to the observatory to count heads and observe that all our limbs had not fallen foul of shiggy traps, and then in between two roundabouts we devised our latest eventful detour into the woods below Failand. First there was a checkpoint with practically all points of the compass to check out, next there was a midget gem sweet stop curiously decorated with equine leavings; along shiggy hither several of us recognised a woodland trail from back in May. Alas, the flour had by now gone to a better place – whether runners or walkers now went to a “better place” shall remain a debate till doomsday. Those lifting off the ground beheld the distant cousins of some giant redwoods and a couple of their own regroups (RR being the operative symbol), while walkers could take in the sunset soaked Cook's Wood at a leisurely pace. None would debate the quality of the far-reaching view at the regroup, though – traffic bypassing Long Ashton could even be made out on the horizon. Stalwarts Coppertone and Deep Throat were by now most assured of a lack of any more uphill, though downhill still needed to come with a runner's twist and those who had become front running frolickers had to be tamed through the use of a lasso and failing to heed the homing instinct of sole hound Oskar. So sense of smell and taste it was then – a beer stop laced with fresh fruit and orange juice seemed a perfect setting for a down down before the insects could have their weekly feast:
CIRCLE: A whopping 350 Bogs runs for Cinderella (by all means still young enough to “get a life”), a lukewarm return was bid to Zider-I-Up-Landlord (we didn't have any), REWIND called an incorrect on on (confirming that it was indeed REWIND who had turned up) and Brigadoon got the gold medal for his efforts in organising our trip to Banwell caves last weekend. On In ended up as On Out, though that arrow pointing back out to the railway crossing wasn't fooling anybody with more than a weeks experience.
ON ON ON: Do drop in for thick chips aplenty, complimented with lots of brown and white sandwiches wrapped up against the insects whose patio we were clearly invading. From the rarely visited to the familiar for next week – the Ship Inn we set sail...

Run 436, July 30th 2014.
The Albion, Bristol Road, Portishead.
HARES: Walrus and Happy Hooker.

Run 435, July 23rd 2014.
The Salthouse, Clevedon.
HARES: Cinders and Kerb Crawler.
WHO: 20 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: Several resorted to a splash before the hash on a balmy-near-boiling evening (for me it was merely a bucket of precious H2O over the head), and so neither Father Abraham not hoki coki made an early appearance. Poet's Walk, however, was compulsory and included a visit to the five fingers viewpoint prior to a speed split next to Bogs' most frequented graveyard – of the runners, REWIND glimpsed the way down through the trees with a little help from some falses, but once back at the Pill the flour really started to play tricks. First there was a clear enough R + W symbol which Eager bizarrely misconstrued as a backward runner arrow (thankfully he had a couple of fellow stalwarts in his ranks) and then the entire pack managed to miss a regroup overlooking the beached boats. One complete with wine gums too – thankfully Cinders was not yet in a disciplinarian mood. Instead we used the sugar intake to march on towards the Crab Apple (REWIND again AWOL en route) and then with a little indecision we found a way past St John Primary School and out onto Tweed Road, stomping ground of many a learner driver. Thankfully not this increasingly cooling night, it seemed, and we had enough peace to find a narrow way through to and past Clifton Court without incident (hold the presses - no Bogs scandal!) Tarmac proved to be only half the way across the next field – a good surface then for youngsters Clara and Stuck In plus semi-youngster Trailblazer to pick up speed if not quite that of an FRB. Now seemed a good time to pop into the hares' for a beer stop, given that we were crawling along the kerbs after being burnt to cinders.
CIRCLE: At the hares' luxury gaff we took in the sights of their secret garden which even Burnett would have been proud of – no less a tribute too to the fruit salad on offer and the teetotaller options of mineral water and apple juice. Many had missed checkpoints and blamed it on metamorphosing flour, much less had completely run the runners' routes and welcome returns were bid to Woodcut, Trailblazer and Stuck In. Also a virgin welcome for junior Clara, already much better at translating from German to English than yours truly. A quick On In past the Salthouse field to finish – suddenly those smaller limbs started to look a bit tired.
ON ON ON: Outdoors and with less insects this time, multiple trays of chips plus multi-grain tuna, ham and cheese sarnies wend down well, especially since the mercury in the body thermo was no longer boiling. Change of venue to The Albion at Portishead for next week – even by today's standards this is surely too early for our Christmas meal...
Run 434, 16th July 2014.
The George Inn, Abbots Leigh.
HARE: Rocky Horror.
WHO: 22 hashers, 2 hounds and 3 visitors.
RUN REPORT: With a little cloud cover the temperature remained just on the threshold of comfortable for this woodland trail, the touch paper lit by a long list of disclaimers from Rocky at the off, such as runners' routes metamorphosed into regroups and a trail potentially without cattle. Sorry, but it takes a lot more than that to put a stop to Bogs pandemonium. Straightaway the runners took a long loop up and around Harris Lane, including blind bends in the middle of the road – clearly hashing in the dark Winter improves our hearing perception. The not-so-far-off walkers could always be detected via the shouts of encouragement echoing through Fish Pond Wood (the “pond” actually being called Abbots Pool). After a regroup on Manor Road and plenty shouts of “ka-ka!” we once again bid goodbye to civilisation and hello to the fish-hooking start to the reigning confusion. First we thought we had encountered the disguised regroup, but instead it was a mere hop and skip around some shiggy, then came a fish hook for 5 preceding poor Rocky's broken promise – for after taking in the views with a cooling shower, a pack of rebellious bovines did appear after all, exacerbated by us struggling to find the right exit downwards. Nonetheless, they were just as easily bossed as your average farm beast – what a pity then that word was relayed by phone that the pack had missed the sweet stop and view point, and faced an agonising wait. Not so much a wait to ensure the BRBs' safety, more to see whether they could be trusted with all those sweets! Well, there were too many of us to do the maths fairly, so instead the remaining hordes of sherbet saucers, midget gems and grapes became a slight free-for-fall. Good job, then, that Rock ycalle dus to order at this point and pointed out routes for runners, fast walkers and slow walkers – the law of averages said at least two hashers had to choose inappropriately, alas. It was Bag Lady and Fondue (plus of course Mudlark) who started well on the sheepish fast-walk but then carried on with runners once back on tarmac. Their brave effort was ultimately the final nail in the coffin for Rocky who then declared beer stop would be at the place of beer-serving. Not even a rapid tumble downhill helped – with all that kinetic energy we should have been easily able to run back uphill, but then we did have a heavy rucksack-bedecked Waynetta amongst our numbers, getting specially tuned ready for a trek across Switzerland, so a little sympathy was granted. Not for the 3 fish-hooked FRBs who must have ended up running an extra half-mile though. Presently we reached the original beer stop destination and thus were sent back out on a limb – had Rocky not pointed out that we were following an earlier arrow those limbs could have been out for the count. Instead the arrows were turned upside down on the original walkers' On Out. By George!
CIRCLE: As far as Rocky was concerned that sweet stop and viewpoint was impossible to miss, so into the circle en masse! More democratically, there was a welcome to Bogs virgin Pussy and hash virgin Howard from Clevedon, with the classic reasoning of having a running problem to contend with. A nice round 250 runs too for Brigadoon! Keep calm and do another 750 of them.
ON ON ON: Hopefully everyone, including visitors Down & Dirty, Happy Hooker and Fair Weather, got their signatures on the Get Well Soon card for Backchat, whose chats at the back tend to reach the front by the end of each trail. She would certainly make short work of the ham, cheese, chutney and egg sarnies out on the patio, plus chips which came a little later. Just as I am going to press – Kerb Crawler and Cinders announced as Salthouse hares for next week, so on-on!
Run 433, 9th July 2014.

WHERE: The Lord Nelson, Cleeve.

Run 432, 2nd July 2014.
The Swan, Rowberrow.
HARES: Tumbling Ted and Harenet.
WHO: 24 hashers, 3 hounds and pub-sitter Coppertone.
RUN REPORT: Tonight we went literally above and beyond the beautiful scenery which adorns these hares' doorstep – at warmup Harenet informed us that Tumbling Ted was to be found out and about still putting in some finishing touches and possibly confusing runner and walker routes, such was the outstanding natural beauty. A quick descent away from any signs of civilisation and we followed chalk markings through the trees (special weather-proofing: wise) before starting a very lengthy split of speeds – for runners it was up and around first to collide with and ensnare the co-hare and then to avoid BMX-ers that kept popping out of the foliage to our left. With nobody flattened or flattered a sweet stop appeared with Midget Gems, Liquorice Allsorts and Haribo, all to take in views which a Mendip Challenger or 3 were on the verge of recognising. First though all that body heat had to be bought to a standstill while waiting for possibly lost BRBs DT, Swallow and Fondue (surely Mudlark could have done some more pulling?) - Tumbling Ted headed back on a rescue mission without shining armour but with spare sweets for them, insisting we plod on. Trot on, we did – past Tynings Farm riding school and the starting point for 15 mile Mendip Challengers in years gone by – apparently hard for me to notice when coming from the opposite direction. We weren't quite finished with the up theme either – by the time speeds split again we could make out Steep Holm and Brent Knoll, while the air was neither thin nor thick. Nor was clashing the two speeds' ways back to Rowberrow thick either – merely negligent, but clearly the descent was rapid enough to scramble Eager's senses – he kicked out a runners' checkpoint the wrong way and had a False to be thankful for for a lack of delirium. Plenty of redwood cousins to take in on more familiar territory (with Kerb Crawler excelling at her latest game of runner catchup), and the good planning of the hares won out in the end as walkers were nearly collided with at the last intersection. School Lane was quickly climbed and word quickly spread of a safe return for DT, Swallow and Fondue. If you can't join 'em, beat 'em...
CIRCLE: Could it really only be 200 Bogs runs for the evergreen, ever-red Rebore? Better ask the t-shirt next time. Undeniable though were the back-tracking Fondue, Deep Throat and Swallow missing the sweet stop thanks to Tumbling Ted reneging on his sweets delivery. Particularly painful without a beer stop to soak up...
ON ON ON: With plenty of sunshine still to bask in we quickly tucked in to a generous spread of ham and cheese rolls, coupled with thin but plentiful chippies. Before the insects could then tuck into us we also finished off the sweets and complimentary grapes and Baklava, just the fuel needed for a quick sojourn down to the Lord Nelson at Cleeve next week. To arms!
Saturday 28th June 2014.
Bristol and Bogs HHH Midsummer Maddness!
Rebore Towers, St. Annes, Bristol.
HARE: Rebore.
WHO: Limpit, KC, Cinders, Walky Talky, REWIND, Fastforward, Waynetta, Duracell and others.
LATER: Fondue, Walrus, Call Girl, Rocky and Mrs Rocky.
RUN REPORT: This combined Bristol and BOGS hash left Rebore Towers, soon led into a park, along a pleasant stream, and then, following a surprising amount of greenery for a town hash, and a considerable amount of climb, to a tall chimney on top of Troopers Hill with spectacular views over central Bristol and beyond. The greenery and further parks continued, with the odd road, until we came to the river Avon, where the short cutters were supposed to be waiting. However, with a beer stop a little way down on the other side of the river, they had already made the obvious choice. While most people opted to cross the river on the short ferry journey (only 25p to cross), Duracell decided to swim, keeping everything precious dry under his hat. Everyone regrouped in Beese's Riverside Bar and Tea Garden, and Duracell spent his 25p on a bowl of jelly beans. Then it was not far back to Rebore's in a light rain shower.
ON-ON: There was food, a BBQ, and charity auction awaiting, with a few more hashers turning up for the après hash. It was announced that the proceeds would be split between R.A.B.I. (see Bristol social page for more details) and Limpit's fund raising swim next year across the English Channel for Mind. Lots of items were auctioned including many hashing t-shirts, plants, camping chairs, recipe books, bags and many more. Some items went for just £1 and some for over £10, with most people going home with at least one item. In total approximately £470 was raised for these good causes and a good time was had by all.

Run 431, June 25th 2014.

The Observatory, Becket Road, Worle, Weston-Super-Mare.
HARES: Fondue and Limpit.
WHO: 22 and a extra one at the on-on.
RUN REPORT: The hash set off through the back of the pub car park, through streets of new(ish) housing and, then suddenly into the countryside. There were a few walkers / runners splits, but the walkers decided to avoid one of the regroups trying to avoid a field of curious cows. This meant that the sweety stop (with added cakes and fruit) had to be postponed until a later regroup. While waiting for the walkers to get back on track some keen runners decide to backtrack to find the walkers, only for the walkers to appear minutes later from a different direction (luckily soon followed by those runners). It was then a short jog back to the pub.
ON-ON: With the World Cup on in the background we tucked into curry with rice & chips.
Run 430, June 18th 2014.
The George & Dragon, Felton.
HARES: Walky Talky and Kerb Crawler.
WHO: 14 and a extra two at the on-on.
RUN REPORT: Before the hash started Alice tried to slow everyone down with tasters of his fresh, warm home-made pasties. The pack unusually consisted mainly of runners (with only 3 walkers and a walking hare). The walkers headed straight to the common, while the runners followed a more difficult to find route through fields of knee length grass, and then hidden paths across the common. The sweety stop brought everyone back together again before separating again with the walkers going, for a change, the "longer" route along the road, hare-less. Even the walkers went along the next runners route squeezing through a tight gate (which some were doubting the ability of other hashers to fit through!). During the final walkers/runners split the walkers’ activity on a public footpath between empty buildings managed to set off movement detection camera's. Finally a beer stop on a village green was followed by a short hash back through the village to the pub (passing some faded signs of a previous Hash set by Walky Talky for Bristol Hash about 2 months earlier!).
ON-ON: The weather was so nice everyone sat outside to eat the big dish of shepherd's pie (and vegetarian lasagne), were joined by Deep Throat and Swallow, and celebrated DT’s significant birthday in customary style.
Run 429, June 11th 2014.

The Salthouse, Clevedon.
HARES: Happy Hooker and Fair Weather.
WHO: 31 hashers, 2 hounds and 3 visitors.
RUN REPORT: A co-hare handle to match the sizzling conditions, with the added bonuses of a splash to follow the hash and I believe record numbers for 2014. Warmup once again would be better described as a limber up (a DT-led hoki-coki to boot), followed by circuit training and walker corner cutting around Salthouse field. Behold the T4 nearly on the beach which took us round the back of the tennis courts and the Little Harp en route to a fish hook down a back alley – tailor made to cause collisions which didn't quite happen. Huff and puff we went past the community centre and into a lengthy speed split – the runners stopped for a photo op next to Deep Throat's castle to give the walkers extra time, and they duly appeared as part of the viewpoint while ascending the Clevedonian zigzag. Many a front runner feared the wrath of the fish hook on the way up, up and up to a sweet stop atop Dial Hill, but thankfully there was no bait to be taken save for the haribo, jelly babies and starburst which Happy Hooker uncorked. Nobody appeared to be either left behind or deprived of sweets, so on down this democratic throng continued then. Fish hook phobia would certainly have emerged had we headed down “The Ripple” next to the comp, but no such hare mischief this time (REWIND wasn't a co-hare, after all) as instead we walked/charged the way on towards Ladye Bay. Runners were misled into going back uphill and colliding with the downard-tumbling walkers; we thus had trial and error to thank for reaching a near-sunset viewpoint with dignity intact (and luckily the remainder of the sweets). The hares here decided it was time to compensate for a previous paucity of fishy markings – on the way beach-ward a couple of fish hooks appeared and made sure that runners did not have the opportunity to finish off the beach beer stop before the walkers arrived. Once on Clevedon's version of sand (give it a few thousand years) we drank to hashing and good health with a fruity smorgasbord of orange, apples and cherries plus cider and orange juice that was taking the pith.
CIRCLE: Customarily spliced with beach beer and photos, crimes included 5 fish hook rebels and overlooking the sweet stop, a well as the returning contingent of Flour Power, Nothrax, Fair Weather, Deep Throat and many more (always a good sign when a scribe can't be bothered remembering everything). On In followed along the promenade, and since crime and punishment had already finished it seemed almost wise to ignore the fish hook for 6 by the Little Harp so as to take a cooling dip in the marine lake early.
ON ON ON: Out in the equatorial weather we tucked into chips aplenty plus tuna and beef rolls, with Call Girl, Inchworm and Godzilla appearing to lend a helping mouth.
Run 428, June 4th 2014.
Sawyers Arms, Nailsea.
HARES: Zider-I-Up-Landlord and Double D.
WHO: 18 hashers and 2 visitors.
RUN REPORT: Wet and wild again for a good stretch of the lower limbs around rural Nailsea, the weather looking just as precipitative as last week into the bargain. On Out promptly led runners astray from walkers down Festival Way to a regroup alongside Lodge Lane – one of many back entrances to Backwell. Runners had actually won both this and the next "race" to a regroup (en route fish hooks included), with the punishment being to stand around waiting in rain from on earl grey sky. A touch of trainspotting soon brightened the mood, though – walking along the track may just have proved safer than that which runners soon had to behold. For after heading down another back double a possible “wimp/rambo” split beckoned and the runners/Sylvester Stallone stunt doubles wondered just if there could possibly be solid ground beneath all the watered UP shiggy in front of them. To reach the sweet stop at the end of all this splashing and thrashing without a single fall into the quagmire seemed remarkable, but the lack of muddy tops suggested this was indeed the case. Here's to a brief haribo celebration then before resuming – a mackintosh-bedecked REWIND tried to convince us that On In was through a torrent of water – well, hares may be able to swim but not while dropping flour. Instead there beckoned a choice of hazards prior to climbing up to the woods at Tyntesfield – runners opted to take on traffic while walkers inevitably showed the appearing cattle who was boss. Little doubting the authority of hares up at Tyntesfield either, maintaining calm and flour with many a checkpoint and ending up peering out into a suddenly appearing sunset with much more on view. An easy dash down then and a quick on in past the distant Old Barn, then? As if it could be so easy on a rainy night – instead we veered right and up again for a crash landing on Tower House Lane (farmyard shiggy was pretty conspicuous), ready to charge those glasses having already surpassed 9 o'clock: CIRCLE: Semi-huddled into a lay-by and with the rain finally relenting, we paid tribute to caped crusaders Kerb Crawler, REWIND and Inchworm for whom dry clothes mean oh so much more than dignity; likewise Titchy Percy for overshooting the sweet stop and looking to the heavens for an excuse (the symbol had admittedly faded). Zider's offspring had once again babysat the cider and grape stop and left it intact – now that's responsibility!
ON ON ON: After a quick hop, skip and stumble into the pub we squeezed in amongst the evening's quiz-goers (no section about hashing, tut-tut) and shared trays of chips and multiple filling baguettes with the visiting Backchat, Happy Hooker and Down & Dirty. Hopefully we won't have the same level of rain next week at the Salthouse as on our last visit (see the history annals, if indeed they weren't washed away...)
Run 427, 28th May 2014.
Captain's Cabin, Weston-super-Mare.
HARE: Missapp.
WHO: 16 hashers and 1 hound.
RUN REPORT: During a curiously wet and wild “6 week heatwave” as hyped in the papers, a sense of deja vu as Missapp threw in a few loopholes to her tried and trusted trail through Weston Woods – first the On Out took in the high tide which had dispersed some flour, then up, up through the trees with a few brave bikers to slalom around as the trees did at least provide some shelter. The runners made a lengthy detour through the boundaries of Kewstoke but without ever deviating from either shiggy or mostly washed-away checkpoints, clearly a source of amusement for the onward and upward walking contingent with Cinders, Kerb Crawler and Walky Talky playing their traditional game of catchup. By the time the clouds finally made some effort to dematerialise we appeared at our firm favourite combo of sweet stop and zip wire – a trio of haribo packs went down much easier than Missapp and Walky along the wire which may be buckling through our repeat visits. No-one saw the photo op in the yonder swing so instead a runners' loop/scalextric provided an opportunity for the stalwarts plus virgin Neville to try vainly to lose their way in Weston's Amazon equivalent. No such hard luck, a regroup beckoning with sole hound Mudlark now resembling a chocolate mousse, what with all those mud splashes. If the excuse of rain washign away markings seemed convenient, none could accept it when Brigadoon blatantly ignored a fish hook for 5 soon afterwards, particularly as the viewpoint from run 372 was still there albeit without a canoodling couple this time. We touched upon Missapp's spanners in the works from earlier – well here it was tailor made for the exceedingly patient FRBs among us, with a fish hook for 5 waiting at the very bottom of the stairs back to civilisation (Brigadoon deliberately slowing his pace when he spotted it; oh to sink any lower than that), but those tackling 3 flights of stairs soon stopped seething when a beer stop in Prince Consort Gardens came into view. Pear cider and orange juice made an excellent companion to the solid beer stop goodies, but then what wouldn't?! Missapp treated us to a scrumptous trio of jammie dodger packs – some jam, some bannoffee and some vanilla thriller – all demolished as prompt as your average On Out.
CIRCLE: Briggy counted his blessings that we didn't send him back up to the wood-top fish hook, as did an equally rebellious Rebore. A welcome too to Bogs virgin Neville from Portishead, dragged along by Dripped On, along with the opposite of a stag do for Rocky Horror. Now then, Captain's Cabin, the ball was firmly in your court to top that beer feast...
ON ON ON: It may have taken 11 months, but the return course plotted for the Captain's Cabin by us landlubbers was well worth the wait. A plate EACH of flavoursome and plentiful chilli, garlic bread and jackets, plus cheesy veggie options, must have been a sign of us being the best customers, particularly with the waves still making a vain effort for their crashes beneath us to be heard. On and definitely back here again!
Run 422, 16th April 2014.
The Rudgleigh, Easton in Gordano.
WHAT: Coppertone's Famous Bluebell Run.
HARES: Coppertone and Inchworm.
WHO: 28 Hashers and two Hounds.
RUN REPORT by this week's Scribe, Fondue: Coppertone promised us flowers and just like Interflora, he delivered. We met in the car park, squeezed ourselves into as few cars as possible then made our way to Portbury. Run an extra mile to see the bluebells? That's a step too far... Briggy squeezed into a passing place further on, causing some pass engers to mumble cause they had to WALK to join the others. Taxi drivers ain't what they used to be.
Waynetta, did her own mini hash and Limpet, happily at one amongst the bluebells, and blissfully unaware that she was deemed awol, sent worried hashers hither and thither. Swathes of early Bluebells giving a beautiful blue hue to the wooded slopes were a feast for hashy eyes. An early Easter bunny in the guise of Bag Lady, dished out mini chocolate eggs; thank you Bunny Bag Lady.
ON IN AND CIRCLE: Plates were quickly stripped of a good variety of sarnies and plenty of chips. Waynetta and Limpet were singled out for their alleged misdemeanours.
Run 421, 9th April 2014.
Brent Knoll Inn, Brent Knoll.
HARES: Brigadoon and Ballsport.
WHO: 18 houndless hashers.
RUN REPORT: After numbers threatened to be thin on the ground in the midst of a sumptuous sunset encircling the knoll, a steady trickle come tidal wave of Bogs arrived in time for briefing rather than warmup. Well, that meant little – we actually on outed pretty much the only way unchecked by the majority – a long urban come country lane which the returning Tumbling Ted was only spared a fish hook adventure by a huffing and puffing Eager Beaver (shadily aware of course that more enduring fish hooks lay ahead). Well, all appeared present and semi-accounted for as we traipsed a field or 6 of shiggy and a few planks over the surrounding streams (Tumbling Ted did indeed get hooked on this exercise). After emerging near the pub with Brigadoon and BRBs Ballsport and Fondue a long way in tow we wondered if there would be time to conquer the Knoll, since it had already gone 8. Well, a roadside regroup and the loudly orchestrated encouragement by horned cattle and territorial equines certainly appeared to encourage us that onward meant upward – even if we were very quick to show the horses who was boss. Upward and of course hazard-ward; we happened here upon the site of a Bogs landslide from run 254, albeit with the biggest casualty Walrus absent tonight and the going a lot easier heading up the slope than down it. It certainly felt as though a reward had to be on the cards for a long trek by foot and by car, and how! After inevitable checkpoint confusion prevailed, Brigadoon's “tank” materialised and out popped an al fresco beer stop with the usual alcohol and a knoll's worth of hot cross buns, utterly butterly and all, and certainly a fine choice considering that they were provided by cool, calm and collected hares.
CIRCLE and ON IN: Well after that beer stop had left us all feeling hot and cross, statistician Walky Talky provided us with the spirit raising news of double figure runs for Slasher and a not-so-modest 300 runs for her goodly self! Missapp and Dripped On also got a down down for running downhill like little girls – still beats tumbling, eh, Ted?. To end proceedings we sped downhill and respectfully through the graveyard (this time round Briggy did not take to lifting the tree – see history pages) plus a quick runners' loop as we succeeded in not running into the earlier markings in the near dark. Head torches, it is nearly time for you to hibernate.
ON ON ON: In amongst the locals we feasted heartily on a tray or three of cheese and ham sarnies, plus wedges that weren't quite chips and some sauces fit for kings. Clearly a pub made for those with a little hillside exertion behind them.
Run 420, 2nd April 2014.
The Miners Rest, Long Ashton.
WHO: 23 Hashers and one splendid little hound.
RUN REPORT by this week's Scribe, Fondle: Having perched on the Car park of said Pub, we all set off on a cool but good evening, at a steady pace atop Long Ashton, eventually dropping down, crossing the A370 and into fields beyond. DT, never wanting to disappoint on the shiggy front, found shed loads of the deep, thick, boot sucking stuff. Or maybe running shoe sucking stuff, as Alice found to his cost. He was left with socks that would never be worn by any self respecting Alice.
At some stage, Walrus took a nasty turn and had to opt out of his punishing training schedule to limp back to the pub.
Sweeties were yummy and rationed over stops - a few mutterings about that...
CIRCLE: Beer stop first. A nice ditty for a good hash was sung to DT. A warm welcome was sung to Dropped On who came down with Alice.
ON IN: Eager left early - nothing personal I'm sure and I can't remember for the life of me what the food was, or was like. But everybody is still here so it couldn't have been that bad.
Run 419, 26th March 2014.
The Ship Inn, Portishead.
HARE: Walrus.
WHO: 16 Hashers and 1 fluffylicious little hound.
RUN REPORT by this week's Scribe, Fondue: Before we went on out, we were warned of a long difficult hash that walkers would have to pull their socks up to complete. Walrus wasn't selling it. But, never to be deterred, 16 hashers set out, some wondering whether they would be in the warm embrace of the Ships lounge an hour and a half hence...
It was an evening of slipping and sliding through wooded areas on the slopes of Portishead. Runners gradually became walkers and walkers gradually reduced their field of vision to a tiny patch of muddy goo in front of them in the hope that they wouldn't soon be bathing in it.
Fluffylicious Hound, Mudlark, a generally enthusiastic Hasher, developed a worrying limp that no amount of torch focusing and paw pawing could solve. So, at the bottom of said slippery wood, sadly, had to turn back to the Pub, along with Fondue who was kindly assisted by Limpet and Happy Hooker. But, as strange as this may seem, as we entered the Ship car park, Mudlarks acute disability disappeared! - nice one Mudlark - as for everyone else? Well they all came back, that's all I can tell you...
CIRCLE:. If there was one, I wasn't there. Too busy 'guarding' the pasties in the pub - someone had to do it.
ON IN: Massive amounts of sausage rolls, quiche, Cornish pasties and Eager Beaver. We all tucked into the first three.
Run 418, 19th March 2014.
The Rudgleigh Inn, Easton-in-Gordano.
HARES: Inchworm & Coppertone.
WHO: 17 houndless hashers and 1 visitor.
RUN REPORT: A welcome disclaimer greeted Coppertone on his return as a co-hare from far off shores - “if walkers get lost it’s Coppertone’s fault, and if runners get lost, it’s your fault!” With this slightly depressing thought On Out was bid to the runners who ambled across the cricket pitch looking for flour which mostly wasn’t there, owing to the precipitation on offer. Luckily though the savvy Rocky Horror was among their number and promptly found a way back up and over the road and onto several others. A lot of dried up shiggy greeted them (if done in the wet this trail may have swallowed us Bogs whole) and they soon found that disorientation had also set in among the seemingly slower pack. At the next brow a pack of walkers stood dazed and confused by mother nature’s attempts to erase their trail - perhaps it was a case of someone stepping on the “Mome Raths” from Alice in Wonderland? Well, the namesake hasher was not here, and so instead a gate was sniffed out (what do you know, a regroup symbol also beckoned) followed by another lengthy breaking of our fellowship - the runners headed into West Tanpit Wood and were briefly fooled into thinking a very steep uphill was NOT on the cards - they might as well have had “au contraire” spelt out in flour. Once at the top and with the sweat pouring, a couple of checkpoints pointed them out onto a slightly familiar couple of fields, provided you were hashing from Failand! Thinking thus of the distances still to come a much brisker pace was selected through said fields (left, right, left, right, oh just look for flour!” were the words of wisdom), just in time to reconvene with the shivering, watch-tapping walkers who were somehow expected not to have wolfed down the contents of the “treat stop” by now. Celery and carrot sticks plus jelly babies and an emergency supply of tangy Haribo from Brigadoon helped us on our way, what with beer stop waiting all the way back in the car park, to the extent that he even managed to switch to a running downhill pace with Ballsport and Drop ‘Em. Discouraging perhaps then than another runners’ route promptly appeared and actually cause several of our brakes to fail - Walrus ended up needing a sit down presumably to recharge his non-Duracell battery rather than to admire the twinkling view. The well lit pub at this point appeared still seemingly a way off in the distance - time enough then for one surviving flour arrow to appear and for several items of clothing to catch on the last stile. A trail with flour in plenty of peril, but it was all white on the night.
CIRCLE: Coppertone and Bag Lady were bid a warm welcome of a return, along with 175 Bogs runs for the latter, while Walrus was determined to have been “piste off” at his sit-down and Flour Power was late for the circle. Hats off to that, eh, Briggy?!
ON ON ON: The former Titanic themed back room had been given an art deco makeover plus the visit of a merely limping rather than laid up Zider-I-Up-landlord. Cheese, pickle, ham and egg filled the white bread while the chip bowls were not full for long.
Run 417, March 12th 2014.

The Rising Sun, Backwell.
HARES: Cinderella and Kerb Crawler.
WHO: 14 hashers, 1 hound and 2 visitors.
RUN REPORT: Weather stability plus scenery beautiful at night a great hash make. Fears grew slightly for Brigadoon at the On Out who learned he was to be a sole walker for a mostly rural trail, but we all knew deep down that keeping calm and checking his balls was all that was needed. As it was, the alleged promise of no fish hooks was soon exposed as trash on the hash when the returning Irish Spew and hound sparky fell foul of a hook for 2 – which also inevitably meant 3 swims through shiggy rather than 1. After conquering the dizzying heights of Backwell via open fields miraculously devoid of bovines, we then descended rapidly back to the main road courtesy of several checkpoints and regrouped by some benches, outrageously used by a troublesome trio! Equally hard to take in was the presence of sweet shop Spar right next to us, and yet a namesake stop was not for this trail – we would have to make do with Happy Hooker's fab photos, however much he tries to drag them down with his continuing modesty. Up and back away, the runners were sent on a couple of wild goose chases (as opposed to latecomer Alice who was presumably busy chasing a white rabbit) prior to wading through some more shiggy in the foreboding fields nearby. After picking up most of the countryside with our boots we appeared alongside the Great Western railway as a prelude to tracking through many more peacefully disturbed neighbourhoods towards a beer stop outside West Leigh Infants School – luckily no miniature minors were lurking to see us guzzle cider and apple juice to toast them thar crimes:
CIRCLE & ON IN: A welcome return to a no longer crocked Irish Spew and Sparky who may have done some of the pulling, then quickly onto the crimes – a late, hat-wearing Alice, Brigadoon for hogging the walker routes and the photo sitters Cowslip, Walrus and Happy Hooker (though he did stand to take the photo). On In still served up some deliberate confusion as the runners marched over a hill and back again, and after a few more turns there was a football pitch to hash/streak across. "Some people are on the pitch – they think it's all over! Oh, wait – there's an On In symbol – it is now!!"
ON ON ON: A nice cosy Rising Sun warmed by its namesake presented us with Doritos in abundances, cheese and ham sandwiches, sausage rolls and pickled onions to munch down, topped by the heartwarming availability of caramel Freddos behind the bar still going at 10p each. Double D and Zider-I-Up-Landlord came to presumably do the latter's handle, who was also on crutches! A speedy recovery well wished for there may be trouble afoot.

Run 416, 5th March 2014.
The Kings Arms, Easton in Gordano.
Hares: Eager Beaver and Down & Dirty.
WHO: 16 Hashers and 1 scrummy little fluff ball of a hound. RUN REPORT: The trail led us up out of Easton In Gordano, suggesting Portbury was on the cards. However, we turned across fields to the motorway bridge and over to the outer skirts of Portishead, only to pause for some mushrooms that were near magical, and much appreciated by nearly all.
A delightful hash followed around and about Portishead. Duracell, for the second time in recent hashes, peeled off two thirds round. Was it something we said? Or does he need to replace his batteries? Back along the sheepway and under the motorway soon brought us close to base.
CIRCLE AND BEER STOP: We circled up by Easton in Gordano Church. Mindful of the fact that we were in a residential area we talked and sang quietly, ever thoughtful of the residents, only to be completely drowned out by the church bells clanging away without any consideration at all! ON ON ON: Massive plates of sarnies, with fillings to suit everyone were muchly enjoyed. Sadly, Down and Dirty was unable to join us on the hash or for afters.
Run 415, 26th February 2014.

The Royal Hotel, Portishead.
HARE: Rocky Horror.
WHO: 18 Full time Hares 2 part-time Hares. One edible little hound.
RUN REPORT: A good start was had with splendid views of twinkly lights below us. We meandered through wooded areas surprisingly dry-ish and pleasant and after a brief regroup it was all downhill thereaft er..... On on amongst the trendy homes and grand crescents of new Portishead, giving the more nosy hashers plenty of opportunity to peer into well lit rooms. Then to the Arc Of Angels, which was parodied by an Arc of Hashing Aliens seemingly on the verge of teleportation. Later, Cinders was sent on a mission to find KC who had been on a mission to assist Duracell who was a mission to get back to the pub.
A second search party found Inchworm who was wandering lonely as a cloud around the Nature Reserve and brought him back to the second sweety stop. And what sweeties! Rocky's rucksack may look like a droopy old bag, but no! It's a Mary Poppins rucksack, abundant in its treats, although a sofa or two as well to sit upon would have been nice. A good mix of walkers routes and runners loops, or shall I say gloops (the runners all looked very yucky) was enjoyed by all.
CIRCLE AND ON IN: All the usual complaints were thrown at the Hare from ungrateful hashers who don't know when they are well off.
ON ON ON: Hashers were left hungry here last time, therefore expectations were not high, so large plates of various sarnies were a nice surprise and were gratefully and greedily gobbled down. Briggy and Ballsport tried to prove they'd done half the Hash and hadn't been in the Pub all the time......
Run 414, 19th February 2014.
The Sawyer’s Arms, Nailsea.
HARES: Double D & Zider-I-Up-Landlord.
WHO: 19 hashers, 1 hound and 1 visitor.
RUN REPORT: The Sawyers car park became a car crusher without hydraulics, so densely packed in were our vehicles after another surge in numbers. The happily hopping hares foretold of many a warning triangle, plenty of shiggy and yet a dearth of fish hooks and falses - three very good points thus made for this triumvirate trail. After an On Out containing more arrows than a quiver we quickly happened upon the shiggified fish hook of the evening - snaring all 6 FRBs prior to a regroup or three. After navigating the back streets the cause of all those warning triangles was imminently discovered - a blind alley with many a low branch and shiggy swamp positioned to catch the unwary. Thankfully this motley crew was none of the sort and a fully loaded sweet stop beckoned at the exit to Nailsea's largest-but-still-small woods. After a feast of Haribo, jelly babies and fruit sherbets we ended up trundling along Trendlewood Way and emerging onto the flight path for Backwell station - t'was not to be our route though as the walkers took to a blind and steep alley while the runners took to a splash and dash around the shiggy border of Backwell lake. Everyone still appeared to have footwear intact (if not pride) and so after a little more trail and error trailblazing we managed to locate the beer stop, complete with Zider-I-Up-Landlord and her non-hashing offspring (yet - give it time). At first we seemed a stone’s throw too many from the pub to combine beer stop with down downs, but then we remembered that this was a ceremonial circle, viz:
CIRCLE & ON IN: Virgins Sharon and Jan from Weston were congratulated for making each other come (great minds think similarly), Brigadoon had most bizarrely found a way to the front of the pack at some point, and clearly this was a position which Rocky Horror, Inchworm and Walrus valued too highly since they failed to wait at the checkpoints for back runners on several occasions. Clearly though the red letter story was the timing of the hares’ runs - Zider-I-Up has now reached 10 runs and Double D a quarter century. Oh, the humiliation of being told to "get a life, get a life, get a life life life" in front of your kids. A quickfire On In was executed particularly with the rain now appearing more inevitable than threatening, passing by a couple of Primary Schools (or is that one secondary?) and Millennium Park en route. Time nearly then to empty that gridlocked car park the way we filled it up.
ON ON ON: We were joined in a crowded pub by Deep Throat (whose signature smartcar fitted into the car park with ease), ready to tease the locals with our own very generous platter of chips, ham and cheese sarnies, fried chicken, scotch eggs and pickled onions. And all of this done in the spirit of satisfying our appetite ahead of the Royal visit to Portishead next week - On On for those who worked that out...
Run 413, February 12th 2014,

The Woodborough Inn, Winscombe.
HARES: Harenet and Tumblng Ted, aided and abetted in setting the trail by Never Enuff.
WHO:The weather was so extreme only DD turned up for the Hash so had to eat all the food after.
RUN REPORT written by this week's Scribe, REWIND: Despite extreme weather and 80 mph plus winds just before, actually Bogs got ten hashers. One or two trees fell down but caused us no problems. Hare TT was still setting the trail when we started so Harenet was in charge. Everyone was dressed for rain and cold but in fact it was a dry starry evening. The trail took in part of the Strawberry line. Runners got about 70% of the runner trails despite best efforts of TT. Pub good afterwards.
For a pleasant change all of us fitted around one table for the post hash celebration.
WT got a birthday down down and is looking forward to being half Cinder's age.

Alternative version of history, submitted by Cinders:

HARES: Tumbling Ted & Hare Net.
WHO: 10 hashers.
RUN REPORT: Who would go hashing on a night with red weather warnings being broadcast? Only the foolhardy? or perhaps the BOGS hardy 10.
.. and what did we find?
A well laid trail, a lovely moonlit evening, not even a hint of rain (some credit due to the RA on a day like this), a blown over tree across a road, giant check points, a suitable amount of ever so slightly moist shiggy, a sweetie stop, an “ I think we’ve gone off trail but lets keep going anyway“ hare, a live(ish) hare who only finished laying the trail half an hour before the pack completed the hash, and a welcoming pub.
CIRCLE (actually a rectangle sat around a mountain of sandwiches and chips): Down downs for the hares for laying an excellent trail, for Cider I up Landlord, for not wearing hat and not having a torch (apparently she eats lots of carrots), and for Walky Talky for getting a year older.

Run 412, February 5th 2014.
The Old Inn, Clevedon.
HARES: Happy Hooker and REWIND – don't say you weren't warned.
WHO: 11 hardy houndless hashers, plus 2 latecomers and 3 visitors.
RUN REPORT: Back to something approaching reality, this rather peaceful trail began with a tried and tested speed split – the runners heading around and down All Saints Lane but this time evading Court Wood. Instead we hurried along the gravel track leading back to school (resisting the swings on the way) and after all these years, it was time for us to head UP the ripple footpath towards Dial Hill! Not without a struggle we reached the peak for a regroup (walkers naturally already there and tapping their watches), and then we split up again. Walrus was out for a little more than usual and so a few personalised fish hooks (a la Briggy on run 254) for him were encountered, prior to heading down the crossroads towards the road leading to Ladye Bay. Not this time, Bogs – orders were instead to march leisurely along Wellington Terrace towards a sweet stop laden with haribo and mentos (and thankfully no coke – don't try that at home!). The runners dashed on to pay respects to the expiring Campbell's Landing, not yet flying the Greek flag but soon to be a right Mezze. It even inspired them to beat the walkers to a regroup outside the Royal Oak, with Cinders resisting the temptation to visit early and Brigadoon tying some hash clothing to Whopper's camper van outside the book shop (a none-too-subtle message to return). At this point Harenet and Tumbling Ted caught us up, though as our numbers now totalled 13 a hobbling injury for Tumbling Ted seemed a put upon curse. Just to rub that in, a slight miscalculation/deliberate mischief from the hares caused a timewarp among the runners with the same arrow continually returned to – without the invention of “On On” they might still be there now. Another such loop beckoned though this one had a legitimate ending – 12 circumnavigations of the promenade bandstand, to be precise. To think that was the end of REWIND's tomfoolery was madness – A T2 appeared around the flower beds just as we saw that one swarthy sort was braving the high seas, judging by the light on the horizon. We all still preferred the inland route, even though it was tailor made to catch first 6, then 4 fish as we passed the Little Harp, Hawthorns and the Community Centre, guest of most Clevedon trails. By the time of the latter Happy Hooker had disappeared with surely good intentions, and so it was – after trying unsuccessfully to disturb Deep Throat and Swallow we spotted him with the beer bag in the park thanks to morse code – cider of all sizes (“Zider I up!” shouted you-know-who), orange juice, apples and grapes were duly wolfed down. To On In the checkpoints leading down towards High Dale were ignored by all bar REWIND (who never learns), though fish hooks for 6 and 7 were obeyed perhaps a little begrudgingly. Touchdown bang on 9 – yet more to be grateful for.
CIRCLE: Perhaps accustomed to the weekend's activities down in Dorset, we declared that this trail passed too many pubs without drinking. Why not than toast 175 runs and 25 hares (quite a ratio!) for Happy Hooker, Harenet and Tumbling Ted's tardiness and Limpit and Zider-I-Up-Landlord's unique feat of hashing regularly in 2013 without haring? Here's to not getting a life...
ON ON ON: Rocky Horror, Fair Weather and Flour Power turned up to merely witness us demolish multicoloured tuna, ham and cheese sarnies, well stocked for when the chips are down. On On!
Run 411, 1st February 2014.
YHA and The White Horse Inn, Litton Cheney, Dorset.
HARES: Brigadoon, Ballsport, Rocky Horror and Walrus, aided by chauffeurs Call Girl and Kerb Crawler.
WHO: Brigadoon, Ballsport, Walrus, Rocky Horror, Call Girl, Eager Beaver, Cinderella, Kerb Crawler, Walky Talky, Double D, Just Liz, Fondue, Spotted Dick & Rampant Rabbit, well fed and rested and joined later by Rebore and Limpit.
RUN REPORT: Us blistering bogs had already sunk a mountain of grub the previous night and then further fanned the flames with one of Briggy's breakfast specialities de la hostelle, to the extent that even Walrus was slowed down a little on the On Out to this 10 mile trek on the South coast. Maybe less logie were Rampant Rabbit and Spotted Dick, for it was they who set a furious pace on the opening runners' loop with a vengeance, Thorners' C of E Primary School and Watercombe Farm (or should that be watered down?) trailing in their wake. At one end of a very long and winding road there stood Rainbow Cottage, sadly with no pot of gold, and then Hinds Mead Lane became more and more hash-like in appearance until the latest flood waters were discovered at the bottom. Spotted Dick here tried both his hand and foot at shiggy management but fate would decree that his victory would wait till later. Hashing on then, the FRBs made light work of dealing with a tanker at the next junction and then braced themselves for a long huff and puff up Park's Lane – the walker arrow present a testimony to the nightmare that heavy rain can do to hash logistics. The dead end sign displayed was but a little white lie – according to my PC's configuration, Google Maps managed to drive their van (360 degree camera and all) nearly a mile along and up this road to Ford Farm back in October 2009, so it was hardly going to stop a hasher in their tracks. There was even time to take in a delightful panoramic view stretching out into the channel – ultimately the cause of some of our imminent woes. After mistaking the right and wrong ways for each other a couple of times our old friends the walkers were spotted at a sweet stop with a haribo lucky dip theme. For those not accustomed to hashing this could well have turned out to be the last supper, for ahead lay one of our greatest perils – no, not Brigadoon mooning again, but instead a case of what felt like explosive decompression as we walked along an exposed coast. None were spared, no punches were pulled – today it seemed, the sea forgave none! At one point we ambled towards a high point marker which turned out to be a gravestone for Brigadoon's hat – after tumbling up the steps he opted instead for safe ground than to retrieve it – by now it is no doubt out to sea, in a bin or smugly in front of a Dorset fireplace – you pick. The only escape from this long-winding wind tunnel it seemed was lower ground, perhaps a rapid descent was the lesser of two evils seeing as nobody took any unfortunate tumble. Fondue pushed her luck a little, perhaps understandably believing that no petrol would be present in this hurricane but experiencing a near miss with a ka-ka nonetheless. To show how welcoming Dorset is to black sheep, there were at least 5 of them in the next field, followed by some remarkably tame cattle in the next – though we still gave them a wide berth as scared-of-nothing Rebore was off with Limpit taking in Dorset by four wheels rather than four limbs. By now we were feeling the absence of our first planned pub stop, though Walrus still found time to take it upon himself to locate the distant FRBs first (everyone else trod warily along the main road until the most relieving sight of “On In” beckoned). All turned up present and only slightly wind-damaged at the Red Bull – any attempt to fly back to Litton Cheney in these conditions would have met with a similar fate to Icarus, so it's a good thing the Red Bull gave us refreshment aplenty but not wings. A quick canter down and to the right and we were soon presented with the hard-to-resist sign which read “White Horse”. Resist it we had to for now, though – another pub stop in the form of The Crown Inn beckoned just around the corner in the fabulously named Puncknowle. What an inspired choice this was – not only were there no punks and some great pub grub in the Puncknowle bar but also there was a chance to play Shut The Box from the games collection (to the uninitiated, Google it and you'll probably find that the game is older than hashing). Rocky Horror had the magic touch of a first timer – a total score of 5 in 3 goes is nothing to squirt flour at, and so duly inspired the runners took to what promised to be a shiggified On In. So what of that victory over nature for Spotted Dick? Well, it came after charging through some indeed very shiggy fields (otherwise we would have sunk) and at a stile hurdle with a lake on the other side. Everyone tried their own unique way across – flying leaps, swimming, tip-toeing, but the pace-setting Spotted Dick here took inspiration from Walter Raleigh in helping the back running runners – maybe he didn't quite lay his cloak for them, but he was an asset all the same. It seemed so apt to end this near-half marathon with some exemplary timing – runners and walkers almost colliding as the youth hostel was sighted in the distance. How great it felt to be close once again to a food mountain.
CIRCLE: In our latest indoor circle (now with Limpit and Rebore in tow) we drank to Briggy's departed hat, fallers Rocky Horror, Walrus, Ballsport, Spotted Dick and Rampant Rabbit and Double D and Liz for being distant FRBs. Hold the drinks though for the first naming ceremony in a while – while it was tempting to name Liz based on her penchant for Pass The Pigs as taught by Eager the previous night, the attention-grabbing moniker “Zider-I-Up-Landlord” was instead given to account for a presumed fondness for processed apple at the White Horse the previous night. Get a life, get a life, get a great, great name.
ON ON ON: We spliced the gluttony of the hostel with the atmosphere of the neighbouring White Horse, and considering these new-year (ish) weekends were her brainchild it seemed most appropriate for Fondue to pay another touching tribute to the departed Koko. Brigadoon and Ballsport's chicken supper went down a treat, complimented by Fondue's curiously pavlova-free sponge pudding and some marmalade cake from the green-fingered Call Girl, all washed down with a port or two or three with a cheese selection that any Ploughman would envy. After rising, shining and wondering where all that food tried to go, we commuted down to the Giant Inn at Cerne Abbas to join in the Kirby Hashers. Any report though will some from their website – it seems the sword was mightier than my exhausted pen. On and hopefully ever On.
Run 410, January 29th 2014.
The Railway Inn, Yatton.
HARE: Walky Talky.
WHO: A motley crew of about 14 and one delectable little hound.
RUN REPORT by this week's Scribe, Fondle: Well, we came in dribs and drabs then hung around in the car park having a good old natter. Hash? What Hash? So, a little later than usual, with Walrus in training mode and champing at the bit like a dead cert in the 2.20, an equal number of runners and walkers set off not together and stayed that way. Our Hare failed to notice that bridge thingy and sent us half way round Yatton to arrive just over the track from where we started. Walkers and runners remained incommunicado only to meet for sugar and alcohol. And, almost no shiggy! A mean feat, even on a mainly urban hash at the moment so a big thank you to Walky Talky on behalf of some of the more shiggy adverse hashers.
CIRCLE: At the Beer Stop. Tom Cruise in Cocktail? No, Tumbling Ted in Bogstail, producing a cheeky mixer for the cider. A little fruit, sparkler and umbrella next time TT? Double D,in need of a drink, turned up, she did say she had followed the trail..hmmm. Fondue had ignored a Falsey - it was alleged - and was punished for her crime by enjoying her fruity cocktail early. Crime does pay.
ON ON ONn: Clearly missing us desperately, E Beaver, Fairweather and Happy Hooker turned up to swell the ranks. The rest of us swelled up with copious amounts of soup and rolls the size of sea sponges.
Run 408, January 15th 2014.
Campbell's Landing/Departing, Clevedon.
HARES: A tried, tested and semi-trusted duo of REWIND and Happy Hooker.
WHO: About 20 hound-less hashers.
RUN REPORT: Deep Throat countered our sombre mood for Campbell's Landing (gasping its last) with a hoki-coki warmup right where the oceanographic paparazzi usually stand. Perhaps inspired by this, the trail at semi-high tide began with an ON IN down on the slipway – Eager and Cowslip took this to mean putting your feet in the water while everyone else complimented them on their bravery. Back up past the sailing club and along to the bandstand, the pack had already been sufficiently split to induce a strange mating ritual by the FRBs – basically around and around the inner bandstand as many times as it took to wait for Brigadoon (Cinderella naturally had to “unwind” by going anti-clockwise on the resumption). It soon transpired that REWIND was up to his usual tricks – a rapid turnback and false down in one of the “coves” plus a viewpoint next to Clevedon's very own “cheese grater” monument, as every atheist calls it. Eerie views out to the Severn as well – either a ghost ship was on the horizon or the Millennium Stadium floodlights were being channelled through the entire national grid, oh and there was an enemy within as well – Rampant Rabbit's lapine instincts had obviously kicked in (i.e. bolt for the nearest hole) and led her to shout “On On” the wrong way. Surely our blessed Poet's Walk's timely intervention would keep us crowded together? Credit where it is due for the hares – old route with new twist as the ascending runners encountered a T7 and then a game of walker catchup, amid the rain that was now more than just a few spots. Well spotted too was a regroup along by the Round Window takeaway, with Walrus going above and beyond the call of duty to account for a by now back-plodding Brigadoon, Ballsport and soggy Cowslip. Yet more runner turnbacks were the imminent reality check, forming the itinerary towards the Community Centre gardens with a hitherto unexplored path covered in a blur by most and Six Ways roundabout being the destination reached. Surely now that we were in close proximity, it could not be the uphill zigzag again? Damn straight, it was. Heck, even the rain managed to ease off as we kept up a brisk pace to Dial Hill whose views can never be spoiled. The navigator in all of us knew one of two popular trails beckoned, and yet still with a twist. A right rather than left turn at the Walton Park Hotel took us all the way down to Ladye Bay itself for the beer stop, smothered in a surplus of seaweed (Wales obviously had too much laverbread going to waste) and also with a bag of oranges, pear cider and orange juice which may just have been stowed away. Circle was, as is now customary, thrown into the mix:
CIRCLE: A grand old 125 hashes for grand young Harenet, a down down for Rampant Rabbit's slight navigation error and a turn of the tables for non-hat-donners Eager Beaver, Cowslip and Harenet again. Obviously the tide was being turned. No helicopter or uniquely low tide was available, and so the real On In took us up, up and along the cliffhanger back to Beach Road – to not lose at least one boot to the shiggy itself was well worth toasting.
ON ON ON: This time Campbell's Landing's closure is true. No, really, seriously, irreversibly, and ever so tragically, it really, really is true, come February. So for our final post hash bash in these walls we took in some peculiarly remaining Christmas decorations along with yet another mountain of sarnies, sausage rolls and chips. Presently there will be a Greek Mezze restaurant in Campbell's place; just as well then that hashing is such plate-smashing fun.
Run 407, 7th January 2014.

Claremont Vaults, Weston-super-Mare.
HARE: Missapp.
WHO: 17 hashers, 1 hound, 2 latecomers and 2 visitors.
RUN REPORT: In the midst of a flooded rather than frozen January the rain had eerily eased off for a day, not that a mostly concrete trail needed dry conditions, of course. We began without a notable warmup and sent the runners the safer way around the marine lake and its newly grown block of luxury flats – confusingly “On On” was bellowed at a couple of limbering non-hashers back by the main road, and punishment for this breach of the peace was quickly forthcoming. For after idling past Weston College Knightstone campus, the Blakehay theatre and into neighbouring Grove Park, the rain decided to pay us a visit after all and how. Not even the thick bracken on the uphill side of the park (shortcutted to by Briggy and Ballsport, out to play FRB) could keep us dry, and so a long runners' loop at the top proved a more popular choice than ever – any excuse to at least partially dry off. Word soon got out that Harenet and Tumbling Ted had caught us up and the latter had already picked up another minor injury. All the carrying was done by himself, though – perhaps it was the jam-packed sweet stop around the next few bends that kept him going. To keep the nostalgia theme going, it was situated at a previous beer stop location of dear Koko, well equipped with jelly babies, liquorice allsorts, chocolate money (stingy Santa!) and lovely views of the floodlit pier. The rain died down a little by now and made our descent that little bit less slippery, and once at sea level (or about 5 metres above) the runners were treated to another quick detour without quite reaching the rocks, tempting as the open-air ladder was. Once all on the final straight we found the only symbol erased by rain (set the previous night, by the way) was the ON IN. Oh the bitter irony of El Nino putting paid to On In.
CIRCLE: Tributes only to the hare herself on a presumably crime and stat-free evening, along with another trail lamented as too dry. One just can't please every Bog.
ON ON ON: Deep Throat and Soggy Balls appeared to lend a helping mouth with the heap of cheese, chicken and beef sarnies on display, along with a very generous helping of Fondue's maple and pecan cakes, plus a big chocolatey birthday one of the same (no cheese on top though!). And all of that to the tune of Lord of the Dance being boomed out to professional standard in the main bar – Missapp sure had done her homework.

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