Lonely 2Bob Hashgate Motormouth Sam Florence Trembler Danish Tom Marianne Natasha Potty Nutcracker Cap’n Haystax Spot Mr and Mrs Blobby Utopia Cheating Uptake StickyDicky Foghorn Mrs. Foghorn Greenfly Buffalo Baldrick Binbag WetDream Dumper Septic Iceman Ann Rosemary and Kundun the dog Cap’n Y-Fronts and dog(must find out his name) Motox BGB Andy Cerberus Shamcock Tweenie Whinge Dee Gutbucket Spex Puddleduck HeyBabe Tony(ShaginaJag) Chris LaybyLil Eth Ms. Whiplash Chuck the Ian twins Flash

This week’s Gobsheet is going to be something of a challenge. Largely because Motormouth, Sam and I missed about 90% of the trail after taking one of Lonely’s short cuts. I’m not blaming the lad (the lad!) and in fact we saved ourselves a five mile walk. But we did get to miss most of the action so if you did anything daft and don’t get a mention, many apologies.

We turned up slightly late, though not as late as some. Ms Whiplash (our revered GM) arrived after the On Out. She then confirmed her sagacity by uttering a mental "Oh, sod that for a lark." And stayed in the pub for the duration. When we finally arrived back the slurred speech, slow blinking and general air of bonhomie indicated that her time had been spent very wisely indeed. The road outside the pub was heaving with Hashers (as opposed to Reading University students just heaving), the fair-weather runners such as Cap’n Y-Fronts joining the more hardy souls. We were also invaded by Danes; Danish had brought an entire longboat’s worth of three generations. Luckily for us they managed to restrain their countrymen’s wilder historical excesses and settled for a bit of a stroll round rather than the usual rape and pillage. The picture shows a typical Danish scene – rather pretty, don’t you think?

After a brief hello to the newcomers from C5, Lonely did his Hare bit and indicated that there was a short and a shorter trail, to rousing cheers. It’s unfortunate that Lonely’s boyish charm still bamboozles the Hash into thinking he’s telling the truth. Lonely does not lay short trails – it’s not in his nature. This explains why it was fearfully dark by the time most people got back, heaving and sweating. But we believed him at the time and set forth with a song in our hearts for a trip around yet another bit of Reading. And the first bit wasn’t too bad. Across a football field, chatting with LaybyLil and Chris. Motormouth had already zoomed off with Puddleduck, the two boys on the lookout for easter eggs laid by Lonely and 2Bob. Now when I say ‘laid by’ I mean ‘placed’. The other meaning is just too horrible to contemplate. Needless to say, they never found any so I imagine they were gobbled up by marauding dogs or nicked by some of the delightful children we met on the trail. These were very prevalent towards the Basingstoke Road and it seemed quite unusual to see lots of kids out and playing, beating each other up, nicking car radios etc. "’Ere. Wochoodooin?" Enquired of me a scrawny urchin. "Hi, ho. Young feller me lad. It’s a bit of a run, don’t you know." I replied superciliously before he kicked me in the shin and brought me to my senses. "Coo. Yore a right toff and no mistakin’ guvnah." He riposted, before I kicked him back thinking he’d taken leave of his. There was a general benign interest from the youth in the area, some even joining us for quite a while. I guess it was unusual for them to see a crowd of (mostly old) gits staggering down the road wearing shorts that had ‘On On’ sewn on each cheek. The only miserable faces were on some of the parents at their front doors but I guess if I had to live round there I wouldn’t be too happy either. Lonely pointed out the short cut up the hill and Motormouth, Sam and I followed HeyBabe and Tony because we thought we knew where we were going. We didn’t of course and when we reached the top of the hill, a) we had seen no flour blobs (or easter eggs!) and b) we found HeyBabe peering intently in the window of a carpet shop, slavering at the sight of all those floor coverings. She’s beginning to worry me. Anyway, they admitted to not following any trail but merely trying to get back to the pub by the quickest route so we doubled back in a vain attempt to find the trail and ended up wandering down Christchurch Road where we found but two flour blobs virtually next to the pub.

Still it was warm inside, they didn’t mind kids and the beer was ok. Inside were Ms. Whiplash and Eth who had been joined by HeyBabe and Tony. God only knows where everyone else was by this time. Slogging backwards round the Half Marathon route by the sound of it. Everyone finally returned safe and sound, slowly but surely filling the bar to capacity.

Mrs. Foghorn very kindly handed over a photo of me wearing that rather fetching miniskirt on the Red dress run. It’s very much appreciated since she’s been keeping it next to her heart. I know this because the photo is rather rounded and there’s a big dent about where my midriff is….

As the ladies and gentlemen stepped daintily outside a mighty, echoing burp rent the air. Foghorn was already out (in fact, better out than in).
RA C5 presented the following :-

Zebedee’s gopher, Florence, (oh, I don’t mean it really) handed out new Spring run sheets on Monday. A copy of this will appear on the website shortly for your delectation. Those who missed the initial giveaway will not have seen Florence’s dark humour in the heading logo. The Baarkshire sheep is lying on its back, feet in the air, no doubt awaiting the funeral pyre…..

And Cheating would like me to state that the recent Italian trip (that he organised) went off very smoothly. Surprisingly, it did. Everyone I spoke to had a great time and enjoyed every bit of it. So well done Cheating. This almost makes up for The Great Gorilla Barbecue Disaster of 2000.