Spot Checks

CC – for Chocolate Coins. Baldrick figured it out first and we all scurried about, grubbing for the awful tasting sovereigns, Francs and Pfennigs. When we had had our fill Zebedee and I led the way to the next check…

CJ – which stood for Christmas Joke. Spot and Wally did the Jimmy Jones and Bernard Manning bit and both managed to raise a titter, one with his deadpan delivery, the other with ott flamboyance. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which was which. Mick and Neil very kindly led us to the next false before we all turned back and stormed down dale and up hill to the next check…

CD – you got it. Christmas Decoration. Little (allegedly) chocolate things were dotted about the landscape and most of us managed to pick one up. Except for Salome who pounced on a discarded Crunchie wrapper as if it were the last chocolate on earth. She slyly attempted to re-discard it but I’m pleased to say this reporter had already exclusivised (wow!?) the event and was preparing to rat on her to the RA. We heaved our swollen bellies further up the hill to the next check…

OW – which someone unkindly suggested might stand for Old Women but which actually stood for Olympic Wave. For some perverse reason Spot, AWOL and Foghorn had decided that a shorts-dropping Mexican wave would be a good idea and several ‘gentlemen’ of the Hash agreed to perform the deed. Mick, Zebedee, Baldrick, Foghorn, Dumper and Lonely faced away and duly lowered their trouserage at the right moment. The sight was truly appalling but it did remind me a needed a couple more baubles to hang on my Christmas tree. We staggered on, white-faced, to…

CP – or Christmas Photo and Spot duly captured our frozen faces at a windswept junction in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, two of my fingers appeared behind Septic’s head just as Spot clicked the camera so she may seem to have the old donkey ears in the pic. Sorry about that. Despite Zebedee and I trying to lose everyone up the next false they mostly ignored us and went right, literally, on a long hack round the forested hill and down to Mapledurham. Unfortunately, I spent most of this behind LordLucan and my ears are still ringing. Handful attempted to slice herself in half by ignoring the obvious wire running across the field and we all ended up at the next check…

DS – or ‘Dog S**t?’ said one, ‘Dead Slug?’ another, ‘Dirty Slappers?’ said another, hopefully. Cloggs nipped off into the bushes for a festive whizzer while Foghorn explained it stood for ‘Don’t Stop’. So we didn’t. It was a hard legging up the hill over frozen, rutted sods. Then on to a little tarmac to…

CC – some more Christmas Choccies all a-dangle from the bushes. From here Florence and I were on known ground since we had laid a trail that reversed this bit some time ago. We all clogged our way over a muddy field and up the hill back to the sight of the horrendous ‘Olympic Wave’. Fortunately, this time, we were greeted by the much nicer sight of Caroline offering mince pies to one and all. Dribbler, struggling with his foil cover innocently uttered the immortal request ‘Has anyone not got any gloves on and could they just pull this off for me?’

A fine and individual Hash by the Hares. It suited the pre-Christmas occasion to keep everyone together and make it non-competitive. Obviously a fair bit of work went into this and they deserve our congratulations for a job well done. Thanks guys. On On. Hashgate.