Centaur Dwight Trembler Amanda Lynda LaybyLilJerry Chris TT2 Eth Salome Madeleine Greenfly OldFart Foghorn Tweenie Chopstix Paella Spot Phil Jackie Lucy Karen Dominic BoPeep Dumper Septic Baldrick Rawhide Spex NewburyBrian Spunky TerryDactyl DavePW SSTI Wetnurse Flash Tinopener Cap’n Y-Fronts Richard Cap’n Haystax HandbagBitch Bruce Florence Circle ItsYours

The car park was liquid tarmac as the evening sun seared us with ultraviolet, gamma rays, radioactivity, the lot. The station shimmered like a desert mirage. Bleached bones glared white as buzzards hovered overhead, waiting to pick off any fallen stragglers. The Hash was meeting in Timbuctoo; i.e. Hungerford station car park. It was as arid as an Abyssinian’s armpit. We hung limply around the car park, tongues lolling like old dogs (and there were a few of them there) waiting for the On Out. This was not long in coming and we dragged our canine carcasses off to check it out with all the speed of a Saharan caravan made up of blind, three-legged camels.

Sadly, NewburyBrian, Greenfly, Spunky, Rawhide etc had decided to run which meant that the FRB’s first commandment – ‘Thou shalt not let any other bugger run before thee’ clicked on in my head. This had, incidentally, been handed down by an almighty god to Pheidippides (the Greek who ran the first marathon between Marathon and Athens). Phei….. Phil had actually been out on a Greek Hash in his new running sandals when he realised the mother of all battles etc. was about to take place in his nearby vicinity. Falling to his knees, he beseeched Zeus to assist them. Zeus glanced down from Mount Olympus and saw most of the Hash were male. Knowing the Grecian propensity for, er, ‘back door entry’ he issued the first commandment and let ‘em get on with it. Phil reached Athens first and promptly dropped stone dead. So, a bit of a warning there for any would-be FRB’s…or Greek Hashers.

Well, we messed it up. There we were on one side of the railway tracks, admiring the evening skies and the hot-air balloons when we saw the rest streaming off on the other side! This meant a bit of a haul back to catch up. However, this had it’s benefits for otherwise I would not have met the lovely Julia who was busily chatting on her mobile. Oh dear! And she made me promise not to tell anyone in case she got a Down Down. Well I didn’t, but she got one anyway! Another first for many of us at the nearby regroup was the sight of Phil actually jogging towards us. Surprising there was no wrinkled old retainer trotting behind him with wheelchair and oxygen mask at the ready. Mind you, on a steaming night like that there were a few wrinkled old retainers that would have benefitted from a sit down in a wheelchair although letting Salome near an oxygen cylinder while she was ‘avin a fag’ would, at the very least, give everyone a new hairstyle. So from the regroup we sped off our different ways to spy Septic running back down the hill ‘in case there was a shortcut’. She described this ploy to me as ‘Sensible’. I can only agree. We all ran like the clappers shortly after this – Spunky peeping his whistle with all the fervour of an insane nightingale. It’s only a matter of time before a Hash member or two decide to take up ornithological taxidermy…..

Hungerford Common loomed and those laugh-a-minute cheeky chaps, Dwight and Centaur sent the trail through a small triangular patch of fenced nettles. As far as I know I was the only one stupid enough to go through it. Still, the kindly Foghorn gave me a rousing ‘well done’. Thanks, Foghorn. There was much lurking and loitering on the Common although full marks to Amanda for very thorough checking (not) until Centaur pointed a hoof in the right direction…that Rawhide and Baldrick had craftily found already. This led to some fairly hard running to get up with the FRB’s on the long trail where Rawhide confided to me that he ‘not only tackles cows, but flies’. The mental picture of an airborne Rawhide swooping down on an unsuspecting herd of girly bovine munchers is too much. I shall move swiftly on. And swift is the word; we shot through some superb countryside at a thousand miles an hour, barely capable of breathing as we sliced along. Until we hit the road. I made the mistake of nipping into a field and, when I realised the trail on the road went parallel to my track, I attempted to get through the hawthorn hedge. Bad move! It’s thorny embrace took no prisoners. Ok if you’re into masochism, but not my scene. Back we came and a hard run to the second regroup. At this point the doughty Paella was overheard asking which was the long route! Well done madam. And a lovely troll through the suburban tarmac it was too until we returned to Freeman’s Marsh where we dallied not two week’s past. Still, it is a lovely area and we got a round of applause from the canal fisherman as we streamed towards the third regroup by the rather architecturally pleasant St. Lawrence’s gothic church.

Believe it or not, there was a long and short trail from here. Yup, we took the long trail. What was up with us!? And damn me if we didn’t use another bit of the Chilton Foliat trail leading back to Hungerford! Although Dwight and Centaur had the grace to join us. From here it was a bit of a slog through some industrial estate, then through the pleasant town centre.

Spot kindly officiated and presented the following :-

A bit of sadness at the start of the Hash today, when RA Dumper requested that we observe a minutes’ silence to respect the memory of Baldrick’s wife who passed away during the week. Later, before the Down Downs Baldrick very kindly invited anyone who wanted to go, to the funeral and afterwards. Our thoughts and very best wishes to Baldrick.