Dumper Poser Septic Mr. Blobby Mrs. Blobby Cof Hashgate Mr. Mainwaring Cheating LaybyLil BoPeep Spot Ms. Whiplash Mudman Mudwoman Florence Linda Utopia Cheryl Marion Mark(first time) Old Fart Flash C5 Nutcracker Squelchy Foghorn Baldrick Iceman TinOpener Miranda Hans(the dog) Lonely Paella Cap’n Haystax Greenfly Mark(GoGo’s nephew) Potty 2Bob Puddleduck Anthony(see Down Downs) Chris Sally Lamppost Smurf David Itsyour Smokestack

Late again! That’s two weeks running. Still, despite the frustration of organising children, Reading’s road system, a meandering, lost French Peugot at Calcot and a flat cap in an ancient Honda on the A4 I almost got to the pub before the On Out. In a way it was lucky that I didn’t, otherwise I would have missed the joyful sight of a lone Mr. Blobby stumping up the road towards me after obviously having taken the wrong trail. I drew alongside the puffing fellow and rolled down the window, easing back in the sumptuous velour seating. "Fancy a lift?" I asked patronisingly and the hardy Blob smiled and shook his manly head. Just as well, really. One move towards the door handle and I’d have floored the accelerator and waved a cheery two-fingered wave. So it was a rapid parking manoeuvre and I was just about to start off when Mr. Mainwaring, bold as brass, starts going into the pub! "I don’t think I’ll make it." He whined. It was like watching the Cheshire cat – one moment there was the Mainwaring, grinning cheesily. Rapidly, the body oiled bonelessly through the slight door opening leaving only the smiling face, which suddenly disappeared with a ‘Pop’!. This is called ‘setting an example’. I must say; if everyone followed the example of our revered leader there’d be a lot less pain and dirt and a lot more beer drunk. Sounds ok to me…

So it was catch up time. Luckily, I saw the tail end of various Hashers scuttling across a field and followed in hot pursuit. I began to get an inkling of what was coming as I noticed the splashing underfoot and indeed, shortly after I caught up the mother of all puddles appeared. Now various lady Hashers were mincing round the edge when Dumper attempted his Moses act. Sadly, this was no Red Sea and his mighty calves disappeared ‘neath the swirling eddies as he ploughed through. His was a fine example though (Unlike some. See above.) and it inspired the more sheep-brained of us to splash where he had sploshed. In some ways this was a good idea. a) it showed how manly you were (or womanly) b) it gave you that devil-may-care, man(ok, or woman)-about-town air of nonchalence in the face of imminent drowning, and c) we were going to get soaked anyway so the earlier we got used to it the better! Having shaken the guppies from our plimsolls we literally streamed off, sogging our way over the sodden sods. Dumper could not have picked a better trail for shiggy, following the torrential downpour of the last few days.

The wet slogging continued for the rest of the run and, as the red mist descended, I found myself at the front with Greenfly, Newbury Nick and Centaur, with Hamlet putting in the occasional appearance. I would normally have expected to see Zebedee but Florence informed me he was playing badminton instead! Any excuse!

The ground seemed ever to go upwards, one long, shiggy-strewn track had us slipping and sliding all over the place. There was the odd, craftily laid, back check to slow us down and at one point Old Fart forced me to take a short cut to catch the flying Greenfly. This is not something I would normally do, you understand, but I didn’t want to leave the poor fellow on his own…

A well-hillocked rabbit field had us stumbling across it before we hit a rather pleasant stream. Fortunately, we were so wet at this time it made little difference and it was fun to watch squirts of water issuing from holes in our track shoes.

We hit the long/short split and foolishly went off down the long trail, although it was nice to note that at long last the ground sloped downwards and we could cruise for a bit. On into some very wet water meadows, expecting at any moment to see a hippo rise, steaming, to the surface.

C5 spotted in the car park changing ‘English style’ with the ever-slipping towel round the waist.
Cheating, in the pub later, showed just how rich he is. Having dropped a two pence piece he declined to pick it up as "It isn’t worth it". How the other half live…
Spot asked me to state the Moonlight Hashes are the equivalent of Anne Summers’ parties. Don’t ask me why.

RA C5 presented the following :-