Baldrick Keith Dribbler with Paddy the dog (nice to see you, Paddy) Cheryl Greenfly Bomber Le Voisin Hashgate Richard and Michael Wally HeyBabe C5 Eth Ms. Whiplash Eth Honeymonster The Cuddles Hamlet and Jake Foghorn Chopstix The Tremblers Lonely and Beaver Lemming Mother Theresa Shep Daisy Magic BGB Dumper Cloggs and surprise, surprise….Zebedee and Florence were late.

Our picture this week shows a confused Cloggs being waved onward by Baldrick (who seems to have clothed himself in an all-over Pakamac just for the weather) after having been waved in the opposite direction by the other Hare, Keith. This illustrates pictorially the style of this Hash with people running willy nilly, hither and thither without a clue in which direction they should be going. The pack apparently split into two and ran in different directions. No mean feat by the Hares. This Hash had all the hallmarks of a resounding success.

We turned up in a very large shower of rain. I only turned up at all because, having gone the wrong way, I spotted a dripping Bomber cycling grimly down the road and pulled alongside while lowering my window. In order to make it as difficult as possible for him I gave him six inches of space between the car and a rather spiky hedge, then speeded up a tad when he leaned over to converse. Despite this, the kind fellow gave me directions so I gave him a cheery wave as I left him drowning in my wake like an overturned water skier. At the car park I bumped into HeyBabe, who had managed a very ladylike parking manoevre that left her small car across two spaces, and Dribbler, who had arrived with the old dog…..now stop it, you lot! I am, of course, talking about Paddy, his four legged furry friend. Apparently, Butterfly had her mind on much higher things. After I threatened to show him my swelling, C5 very kindly offered to take the tape recorder round. It took him a while to understand the controls – poor old soul. So Richard and his three and a half year old Michael dragged me round the lake to show me ‘their’ ducks and everyone else buggered off on the trail. Over to you C5.

Shortly after the start Shep very kindly told Ms. Whiplash the result of the Grand Prix (which she had not wished to know) so she threatened him with a Down Down. Those who know Shep realise this was not a threat but something he would regard as a just reward. The initial search melee in the Pastures car park was generally of the usual standard, with confused Hashers hurtling in every direction. In fact, Richard, Michael and I caught the tail end of it as we saw Bomber going over a false, right at the back of the pack. I was so surprised I only narrowly missed an Empire State Building-like pile of duck poop, no doubt excreted from a large Pochard with a penchant for All Bran. Incidentally, did you know that the Pochard can dive to a depth of eight feet underwater (not sure if it ever surfaces again though if it can hold all that poop). I learned that from the duck and goose identification board by the lake (day not entirely wasted then).

A little further into the tape and a sudden burst of Lonely-spiel from last week suddenly breaks through, C5 having pressed the wrong button. Let’s hope he never enters the nuclear industry.

Foghorn, Daisy and C5 gave Lemming the good drenching he so richly deserved. He having drenched almost everyone else at this point. Mother Theresa got him too, but also doused C5! A brave soul it is who muddies the RA. HeyBabe, C5, Mother Theresa, Lemming, Foghorn and Daisy then became lost from the rest of the Hash and there is a plaintive wail on the tape from C5 who whines "We’ll never, ever find our way out of Dinton Pastures again". Followed by "There’s no flour. Nothing. We’re lost completely". It’s almost as poignant as Scott’s diary. You know the sort of thing: "Left tent for a slash in the blizzard. Willy froze. Smashed icicles off with Oates' pick". According to Baldrick, later, half the pack cut across where they shouldn’t have and started running in reverse. Another gem from C5 confirms this: "Foghorn reckons we’re going backwards but we’re definitely walking forwards". Lemming and Foghorn burn off into the wild blue, leaving the rest of the rapidly dampening group. This may well have been at the point where Richard, Michael and I spotted a surprised-looking Greenfly bursting out on to the path 100 metres behind us. He pecked about a bit, and, finding nothing of interest, shot back in the direction from whence he had emerged. Meanwhile, Lemming had returned to the group who, according to C5, were playing Poo Sticks. Now any parent will tell you that it does and why anyone would want to play it remains a mystery to me.

RA C5 presented the following :-