Dumper Septic Lynda BoPeep Greenfly Emma Salome Ms. Whiplash Hashgate Motormouth Gusset Whinge Binbag(see Down Downs) Big Spender Anyname(? That’s all he’d say) BGB Richard Skid(mark)s Spex Bill Lonely Beaver Honeymonster Magic TT3 Miranda TinOpener 2Bob Lemming Bomber Tom Dribbler Butterfly Mother Theresa Foghorn Chopstix Potty Spot(on crutches) Dijoopay Cheryl Baldrick Mr. Mainwaring Flash Mr and Mrs Blobby Cap’n Y-Fronts Cheating Iceman(added as missed by scribe!)….. plus 19 fine Hashers from Surrey H³.

I should have known really. As we passed a grinning BoPeep on the way to the hall he gave a cheery smile and a wave. If I were a psychiatrist I would have understood the manic undertones and, like a few sensible hashers, "helped out in the kitchen". For this Hash was to be a game of two halves - the first a pleasant Dumper-style troll through fine woodland, the second a BoPeep endurance test to sap even the most dogged Hasher.

It started well. After a polite introduction by the good Captain Mainwaring BoPeep commended the birthday Hash to us and kindly pointed out the On Out. The sky seemed to be clearing. The mood was partylike. Some Hashers even called ‘On On’! We were all having a good old chat as Skid(mark)s showed her less agile side by attempting to swing on an old hanging tyre. Somehow I don’t think she’ll be joining the Millennium Dome performers just yet. We reached the pleasant environs of Ufton Court where BoPeep roundly berated C5, Lemming, Whinge and a SH³ Hasher who were calling ‘On On’ where there was no flour. They duly raced back, cringing under the rightly stern glare. The svelte Mr. Blobby zipped past like lightning - watch your back Greenfly!

And then we were in to that lovely forest. Greenfly and I took a sojourn through the pine needles that turned out to be a short-cut. We were so disappointed not to have run round the trail…. Lemming gave Dumper a birthday leaf and mud shampoo. He certainly looked better for it. Spex did an excellent cartoon fall - I expected twittering birds above her prone, cross-eyed figure. Motormouth rejoined me and we trotted on to the regroup, learning at last the mystery of why Whinge and Gusset swapped trousers in the bushes last week. Would you like to know? Then read on….It seems that Gusset had split her namesake (on her running trousers, that is) and Whinge, the gent that he is, offered to preserve her modesty and chapped legs by offering his awful, sweaty leg coverings. Personally, I’d rather be buttered on both sides and fried in a pan.

Here at the regroup Hamlet, freed temporarily from the shackles of womankind, sprinted for the beer, warmly applauded by the assembled sweating throng. Even Baldrick, in a moment of beer ecstasy, spurted frothily all over the place. Oh for a bottle opener! Various macho hashers swaggered up to ladies and offered to whack open their lagers on the gate hinges only to return whimpering several minutes later with badly bruised hands and egos. In an unprecedented act of prestidigitation (that’s magic, Greenfly) BoPeep produced an ancient toilet bowl, a string with newspaper squares and a copy of The Sun so that Dumper could ascend the throne and be serenaded by his grinning peers. And so to the second half…..

Like a fool I let Motormouth go on the short trail, cared for by the kindly Binbag. Had I known what was to come a strong fatherly streak would have ‘forced’ me reluctantly to adopt the short trail in order to care for the lad. It started well enough, wriggling through undergrowth and along trails, then I learnt that it was ‘one blob and you’re on’. This is great if you pick the correct trail. If not you are led by a false sense of expectation and a real sense of desperation until you finally conclude, after half a mile, that this is not the way. Some of us managed this every flipping time. Cheating overcame this though by persuading a couple of ingenuous Surrey chaps to follow him as ‘I know the way’. Having been caught out with Cheating once before I was more than glad to return the odd mile or two to the check. Just before Padworth church we braked hard as four deer on the fenced path thrashed about, desperate to escape. They eventually shot silently across the field - if only we could run that fast and look that beautiful! It was here in the churchyard that Baldrick leant over to me as we followed the prancing Lemming and said ‘I have a cunning plan’. And what an excellent plan it was. The idea is to cremate Lemming (alive or dead) and use the ashes to lay a Hash. An Ash Hash!

And so to the Hall, where we all received a pint of excellent beer and a damned good meal and were regaled by a great jazz band. Dumper and Septic strutted their stuff with casual expertise on the dance floor. Jill and BGB and Jill(again) and Lilo showed an unexpected and exceptional dancing ability. Cloggs and C5 did their best. The miserable Mudman declined to show us his footwork. Baldrick amazed with a spirited ‘aping’ of King Louis during ‘I’m the King of the Swingers’. Greenfly and Emma proved what we’ve all known for ages - they’re on amphetamines. A very Happy Birthday to Dumper and thanks for a great party. Thanks also to Nutty and Magic for doling out the beer and a big thanks to all those (and there were many) who prepared, cooked and handed out the food and who cleared up later (loved that apron and gloves Gusset).

Wet RA C5 (courtesy of Mr. Blobby and DK) awarded the deserving as follows:-