Hashgate TT1 TT3 Mother Theresa Lemming Lord Lucan Shep Daisy Honeymonster Magic et famille Dumper Septic Snotlegs Tin Opener Miranda Mr. Mainwaring Squelchy Jason Tacky Sticky Dicky Gulab Ja Moon C5 Foghorn Bopeep Ms. Whiplash Greenfly Chopstix The Tremblers Lilo Jill Iceman Squirrel Flash Potty Nutcracker Sue 2Bob Heidi Whinge Guinness Spex Humper and DoggyFashion(see Down Downs) Smurf Butterfly Dribbler. At the pub - DidYouPay Lonely

The morning was bright, clear and frosty. Chilled Hashers, knees cracking like pistol shots, shivered out of cars. Hashers with hair rimed white stepped gingerly toward the gathering circle. Dogs skittered about excitedly including 2Bob’s brave Heidi, doing a very fair impression of a short-haired tripod. There was a good bunch of us and Jesus Christ lookalike Jason had kindly joined us - nothing better to do on a Sunday morning, I suppose. Dumper appeared, wearing lycra plus fours. Lilo and I mused on whether he would be swinging at a few balls during the run. Perhaps the most ludicrously dressed was Lemming. A couple of weeks ago this journal reported him wearing a cranial condom - today the little chap wore a red French tickler on his bonce. One could only hope that, during the Hash, any of the taller ladies would check carefully behind her before bending to re-knot an errant shoelace…

So over to the hares from Mr. Mainwaring. But where was Jenks? He was as absent as flour on the trail. The good Reverend was nowhere to be seen. Before, during and after the event nary a Jenks was to be found. Still, Squirrel made up for his absence with the shortest Hare’s introduction in living memory. It went something like this: "Uuuuurrr. If anyone wants a short cut I’ll do one." And off we went. We should have realised - the length of a run is inversely proportional to the brevity of the introduction.

Many of the more mentally challenged Hashers chose to run up towards the station since, in the words of the irrefutable BoPeep, ‘it always goes this way’. Luckily, Foghorn applied de Bono principles and buggered off in the other (and correct) direction. I managed to catch up with the gazelle-like form of Tacky (nice to see her again) and the more simian rear view of Whinge (not so nice to see that again!). Ever the gent I crashed past them both in an effort to catch the bounding Foghorn who was busy frightening casual riverbank strollers with his startling ‘On On’s’. As Foghorn approached geese rocketed upwards in honking alarm; freshly made molehills streamed away from him as the underground creatures excavated frantically; several coots fainted. And then I made the mistake of overtaking him. I missed the next tiny flour blob but he didn’t. The blast came from behind and my hair shot forward, shirt flapped like a flag in a gale and track bottoms turned into jodhpurs. Still, it was a great way to inject some pace - thanks Foghorn.

There was much milling about after this. The FRBs had been well caught out by a long false and no-one knew where to go. We eventually plumped for a likely looking path with no actual flour. Greenfly and I soldiered up to a bridge where we met a check and a Squirrel, out for a drive in his car. "That’s not the trail." He remarked. "You should have come out further down." Looking back down the long tarmac hill the phrase ‘sod that for a game of soldiers’ came to mind but we settled for a smile and trotted off to check it out. After much fannying about BoPeep found the carefully hidden next check so we all stood about debating the lack of marked trail until TT1 took an executive decision (guess) and we all followed him, bleating gormlessly as we ran. His was to be a hollow satisfaction as we went off road; Cheating and I toward the forest and TT1 miles out of the way in the valley below. His small, dark, bank managerial form blending into the distance. We met a group of friendly youths lounging near a check. "Is that old, roaring bloke in white one of your lot?" They enquired. Obviously Lord Lucan had passed this way.

From here it started turning serious. Up hill and down dale. Clodding across the field at Sulham, shoes thick with mud, staggering about like a Spice Girl (Old Spice). Sticky Dicky sliding around like Slippery Dick. Even Greenfly agreeing it was difficult to keep to his feet. Surprising he was on them given his post-flu condition. BGB appeared in a field full of nervy calves. TT1 flitted by. We seemed to have lost the pack until we caught up with Jill and Spex. Greenfly, Iceman and I then made our own way back to the car park after missing the trail. I thought the last trail laid at Pangbourne was long - this seemed even longer. But some good countryside was run through even though we couldn’t see the flour for the low sun. Thanks to Squirrel and the ghost of Jenks!

Now then. I have been asked by a certain person to mention Squelchy, our much loved Hash Mash. For it is she who selects, purchases, prepares and serves the various Hash food which we all enjoy. Not only this - she has to nurse that poor old bugger Mr. Mainwaring round the trail each week.

RA C5 awarded the deserving as follows:-

* Awarded this week’s sheep - which was summarily stuffed down his trousers!

Note that we now have a Dumper, a Scrumper and a Humper. Do I detect a pattern?

Motox (BoPeep) is holding running training sessions for all every Wednesday at 19:30 from Asda car park at Honey End Lane, Meadway, Reading. Everyone welcome.