Oh, the picture? Mr. Mainwaring wanted one. Well now, the main problem with being a Hare on the Hash is that you don’t see an awful lot since you are at the back making sure people don’t get lost. So it’s well worth screwing up the FRB’s right from the start. And indeed, this is what happened. A very large blob of flour placed on top of the footpath sign opposite the pub reminded last year’s attendees at The Teddy Hash that the trail started in this direction. So they duly trotted off that way. Sadly for them, Motormouth and I had laid several falses in the field and one up the road. Emma remarked to me that Greenfly had been caught out well and truly. Hares 1, Hash 0. Much was the bleating and baaing as the pack milled aimlessly, waiting for the On On. Behind the pub was a narrow lane and a nettle-strewn footpath, leading to a stile – where Motormouth had laid another crafty false. Some delightful screams told of the bare-legged Hashers who had essayed this route, only to have to turn back. So this is what we want on the Hash: complete chaos with the pack being kept together as much as possible. Now this worked very well a little further on, after the route had been found through the copse at the back of the pub and the faster Hashers had streamed off through the sward to a minor check by the next stile. This check only went off a little way into the trees but it slowed a few. The next part proved very useful in completely screwing the FRB’s. Passing by a wood, the trail appeared to go across the next field but it had a bar 3 just before the stile on the other side. Back they all came, much to the enyoyment of the slower Hashers who had already been directed by the kindly Hares into the wood. And just in there was a check with only one false and the real trail. It sometimes seems quite useful to have few false trails, since more people have to check the varied rabbit paths etc. The real trail led into a veritable sea of brambles and looped downwards towards a 2-way check. Much was the crashing about and swearing as the fierce tentacles lovingly enveloped the hairy legs (not the ladies, of course!). This meant that we could lead the walkers and more leisurely runners across the false trail to meet the FRB’s stampeding breathlessly up the hill to join us… after having found that the 2-way check had no flour going in the opposite direction! Remember, virgin Hares – there are NO rules. The trail then led past the stile that had the bar 3 just before it. Much to our delight! Further down the lane a craftily laid blob on the left fork of a T junction had the FRBs back peddling from another bar check in order to catch up with the rest of the pack who meandered carelessly to the regroup.

Now we split into the short trail and the long trail that looped over Crowsley Park and into the forest. Bomber kept an eye on the long trail while I had the pleasure of the more sedate members of the Hash…and the kids. Bomber and I had led a merry trail across the Park to the road at the foot of the forest, where a fearsome check awaited the FRB’s. We had laid plenty of false trails so that the slower runners could catch up and the real trail sneaked off into the trees for some slowing down amongst the fallen logs. We spotted a fine herd of deer when we laid the trail, trotting silently through the sunny glades as I clumped around, breaking dry wood with the sound of pistol shots. One or two checks in the forest, including a semi-back check, hopefully ensured everyone stayed together and a further foray into some trouser-tugging brambles slowed the front runners. The trail then wound back to where the short trail had gone after the regroup and from here it was every man for himself as we let ‘em go on a cruise. There were just a couple of checks and a bar check to catch the unwary. Since I was back at the pub when they came in it was pleasing to note that most of them were sweating profusely and breathing hard so I guess they enjoyed the final ‘eyeballs out’ race. I hope you enjoyed running it as much as we did laying it. On On. Hashgate.