Dribbler Butterfly Paddy the dog C5 Baldrick Lonely Hashgate Cap'n Y-Fronts and Tigger the dog Caboose Gutbucket Chopstix Foghorn Spot Potty Nutcracker BinBag Dumper Septic Cap’n Haystax Hamlet Iceman Utopia Lynda PonyExpress ManEater WhistleBlower Skydiver Flash Uptake Squelchy PartyAnimal Motox Dave Dwight Spunky Centaur Danish Neil Cerberus Mick Jane and Megan the dog Straddlevarious Diarear EasyRider Rosemary(see Down Downs) Chuck Dee(see Down Downs) Whinge WetDream Volker Cyclogical Florence Zebedee ….and later Ms. Whiplash Eth Salome

A huge crowd gathered outside the pub and it was very nice to see some of the Oxford Hash: Pony, Whistle and Man (see above for full names), some of the Newbury boys: Dwight, Spunky, Dave and Centaur, rare visitors such as Caboose (sadly without his delightfully named lady, Chunderguts) , Straddlevarious and Diarear, people slowly being absorbed into BH³ (much like ‘The Blob’ – no, the Steve McQueen one, engulfing it’s screaming victims) such as Jane and Lynda and new chaps like Volker our new Porsche liaison officer.

Prior to the On Out Dribbler took to the podium (in this case a pub bench) and unleashed his full oratorial potential, let it run round the block a couple of times then smacked its nose and put it back in its kennel. He informed us that the evening’s trail was excellently laid and that we were taking part in the unofficial Newbury arm of the Berkshire Hash. He also explained (to some very effete ‘Ooohs’ that there would be bar checks with numbers. He hadn’t told us the full story…..

We On Outed and I was delighted to be right at the front for a change, almost tripping over Cap’n Y-Fronts dog Tigger and closely followed by Gutbucket. We surprised a girl carrying an un-iced cake as we sped past her – to the first bar check, cunningly hidden in a tectonic pavement fold. We surprised her again by running back past her. The poor lass really didn’t know what was going on. Was this a marauding gang of short-sighted, largely geriatric, cake muggers or what? We left her to her confectionarial (I made that up!) ponderings and shot off down an alley.

Further bar checks appeared and this plainly was confusing to Hamlet who referred to them as ‘line-outs’. Let me explain, Hamlet. A ‘line out’ occurs in sport where very fit people who know exactly what they are doing vie against each other to gain possession of a ball. A ‘bar check’ occurs during an amble round a trail where very unfit people who are already dazed and confused find they don’t know exactly where they are supposed to be and have never been on the ball.

We hit the canal, wandered about in a field for a bit, then realised there was a back-check and stamped back into canalside suburbia. Centaur and I managed to think we were going the right way until he peeled off and I found a bar-11. We started counting back. But oh no it wasn’t. Dribbler sprang out of nowhere and told us it was a bar-2 in Roman numerals! Had he not been with Paddy the dog I might have called him something rude. Instead we burned off to the canal bridge while meeting people like Zebedee coming back, having heard an ‘On Back’. Well it keeps the pack together and, of course, this is largely what the Hash is about. I must say that the trail certainly did keep us together for most of the time and for that Dribbler and Butterfly must be congratulated. Mind you, don’t let them know I said that or they’ll get big-headed.

We traipsed across a field, Florence commenting on Gutbucket’s backside for some reason. He’s too young, Flo. Stick with ole Zeb. You only have to polish his Zimmer every now and again and broach the occasional bottle of Wincarnis. Gutbucket delighted a small group of us a little later by running into a lamppost – no harm was done on either side and it wasn’t quite as embarrassing as Dee who essayed a little pavement body surfing. Nice one, chaps.

We moved on into the more tarmac covered delights of Newbury and Neil hit a bar-4 (not Roman numerals – could we please have some consistency). Spunky and I followed him back, went through the little alley, turned left…. and ended up on precisely the same spot that we had been on two minutes earlier. Still, the lovely Danish was there for a bit of consolation and a chat and it meant the pack caught up with the FRBs. So another fine piece of trail laying by the Hares. Which was followed by more as we entered the park and everyone got lost. Skydiver, Uptake and Zebedee especially since they couldn’t spot the large ‘F’ by the park gates. More myopia followed as Hashers were spotted up on the canal bridge milling aimlessly after missing the trail. Some of us waited craftily for the Hares and then sprang to the front along the towpath into what seemed a very pleasant part of town. That is, until Lonely informed me we were nearing a predominantly Gay area. Apparently, a ‘friend’ had told him of this….

Despite several false trails and a couple of places where it seemed Dribbler or Butterfly had tripped and fallen on their bags of flour – visions of a pair of negative Black and White Minstrels running round the town come to mind – we reached the regroup; Straddlevarious and Whinge somehow conniving to get there first. The Long and Short trails split from here, the Long being only slightly longer than the short. If you see what I mean. We duly minced round it, some of us stopping for an unnecessary sojourn in the pedestrian underpass, and then we were back. I think we all rather enjoyed this one and the Hares certainly made use of a variety of running surfaces. Thanks very much.

May I take this opportunity to congratulate C5 on his RA role. It isn’t easy finding incidents on town runs but he always provides us with some humour at the end of the evening. Well done, sir.