Nutcracker Potty Steamer Wally Shep AntiHash Lord Lucan Baldrick Panther Bomber Organ Grinder Spot Chopstix Lynda Amanda Clare Greenfly Cheating Tacky Ladybird CircuitBreaker Liz Phil Khazi BakewellTart SpeedBumps

Now the title of this week’s scribblings does not refer to a well known breakfast cereal but to the sound my knee made last Wednesday whilst circuit training. The sound I made will not be found in any book of etiquette and is certain to bring a blush to any maiden’s face. Ah, yes. The Scribe is laid low and will not be running for a while and this is why I was to be found perched on a stool in the pub on Sunday with my right leg sticking out as if raised in a half goose-step and my walking stick (I ask you!) hanging from a convenient bar hook. So while the bunch above enjoyed a casual stroll round the countryside, courtesy of Shep and Lord Lucan, I was enjoying a pint and a chat with the landlord, along with one of his more raddled patrons. You know the type. Sixty if he’s a day; thin as a rake; chainsmoking; bleary eyes; one good sneeze and he’d explode all over the pub. Fortunately, he didn’t and we all had a very pleasant time, what with watching the closing ceremony of the Olympic Games and all. Then in strolls Nutcracker and attends the other end of the bar. "Hi Sheila!" (for ‘tis her real name) I calls, all friendly like. Not a flicker. Either she thinks an Aussie on the TV is chatting some girl up or it’s the white-haired pervert with the walking stick sitting at the other end of the bar with an erect leg. More likely the latter. Attractive females never know when some ancient is going to grin at them semi-toothlessly with horrible, squinting offers of a share in a bottle of Wincarnis and the loan of a corn plaster. But eventually La Nut realises it’s yours truly and rushes over all pouts and fluttering eyelashes..….all right, a chap can dream, can’t he? Anyway, we had a very pleasant chat about injuries before the Hash returned.

Of course, as soon as my stick and limp were noticed this meant the usual round of crusty jokes. Since the injury I have been called Skippy, Stumpy, Hopalong, Sticky. Been asked where my whippet is. Told I’m too old for sport. Been laughed at by the kids for going up and down stairs on my bum. Laughed at by my wife for not being able to get my socks off (I’ve just re-read that and it sounds rude!). Laughed at by the cat for not being able to reach down and fill its food bowl (but I think I had the last laugh there!). And so it was with various members of the Hash. Not that I minded in the slightest. I’d do exactly the same in their position. There’s nothing like a bit of p**s taking to lighten your spirits.

But to the Hash. Baldrick (what a good chap he is!) had kept the dictaphone from last week and very kindly gasped his breathless prose into it as he trudged round. Now the interesting thing was that he started his commentary at the middle of the tape and did the second half at the start. If you catch my drift. But it’s all hilarious stuff. "Into the field; dropping steeply down a path and into the valley… Woah! Nearly lost it!" "Up the hill. And now we’ve run back down again. Bugger!" etc. etc. And some of the heavy breathing sections had me alternatively crying with laughter or wondering whether he was going to ask the colour of my underwear!

There are the usual observations on tape. Greenfly flitting about at the front yet being well caught out by a bar check at one point; Cheating using a map; Shep chatting with a gamewarden. Foghorn complaining of very long falses. GBH and HeyBabe short cutting through the woods. Florence almost sliding over on her bum. The regroup was by The Frog which was well known by some. Trembler almost falling on his bum. Very much like your usual Hash. Filled with minor incidents that make the day. And all punctuated with Baldrick’s Celtic gasping. Wonderful!

Well it all sounded as though there was plenty of trail with lots of checks and some good countryside. And the weather was rather pleasant so it sounds like a good Hash. But then Shep and Lord Lucan have been Hashing for so many years you’d expect them to pick up a little experience along the way. Mind you, I’ve been on some of Shep’s little forays in the past and these have tended to consist largely of trouser-tearing brambles, shiggy that sucks your trainer (and sock!) off, heart attack hills and liberal dousings with disgusting potions at impromptu regroups. No-one mentioned any of this today so perhaps His Lordship (understandably preferring to retain the low profile) kept him in check. Everyone I talked to afterwards seemed to have enjoyed the experience, even Cheating who (I was given to understand) nicked the pint I had managed to con out of Amanda by leaning heavily on my walking stick and looking forlorn.

In C5’s absence Spot presented the following (he really must learn the Hash names!) :-