Zebedee Florence Hashgate Wally Caboose Iceman Greenfly Canopener Miranda and Emma the eager dog Salome Ms. Whiplash Chopstix Richard (get better soon Linda) Pissquick Shyeena Glittertits Soapy Harimau Bomber PoshTart Baldrick Ladybird Artifuct Blowjob Potty Mafia Mother Theresa Lemming Honeymonster Charlie Dribbler and Paddy the dog Motox BGB Lonely and Beaver the dog Anne-Marie The Tremblers Cloggs Generator Boothy PressGanger Plod Fuelish

Firstly, let me send best wishes on our behalf for a speedy return to Nutcracker, who is now recovering from a bit of surgery in the lumbar department. Her back problems started some time ago when she and Potty attempted the spectacular but tricky position 233b during a private rubber, horseradish and bondage session. All was going well until they slipped off the ironing board. Potty caught a suspender on the doorhandle, leaving him dangling in mid-air while Nutcracker executed a neat twist to catch the nearby falling fish bowl. I’m not sure whether it was this or the action of reducing the coffee table below to matchwood that did the damage but she hasn’t been the same since. We’re with you all the way, Sheila. Come back soon.

Our picture today shows Lemming wearing a rain hat and looking very hacked off. This sums up the weather on this delightful morning and it got worse as time went on. I felt exactly the same as Lemming as I got out of the car and was immediately pounced on by Wally who is now at the top of my ‘Persons Who Should Be Volunteered For Vivisection’ list. He maundered on for some long time before Ms. Whiplash and Salome appeared down the road, driving towards us. Now in front of my car was a parking space the size of Wigan. Ms. Whiplash spotted it from 200 metres. She pointed the wheels, switched off the engine, started checking the makeup and began the pre-Hash natter with Salome. The car coasted slowly in, gently rolling to a diagonal stop a fair old way from the kerb. Wally and I offered the girls the use of a map and GPS equipment to navigate their way to the pavement but this was declined. It took them another three goes to get vaguely parallel. They staggered from the car, exhausted by the effort.

Ace Trailmeister Zebedee and Florence had done a sterling job of mixing up our Hash with the Didcot, who were due to meet at The Fox at Bix a not far away. They reached a compromise in that Didcot Tim helped to lay our trail and the rest of DH³ joined us for a damp stamp up the hill. Wally was first to head off up the hilly track while I ran past the end of it looking for flour and laughing out loud. The reason being that an old dog being walked down the hilly track had taken instant dislike to Wally’s lurid shorts and had attempted to bite him on the knackers. Unfortunately, Wally’s startled leap was enough to swing his clonkers away from the masticatory advances of the beast and its gnashers snapped shut a mere inch away. As I ran back from my false I bade the excellent creature and his owner a very friendly "Good morning", happy in the knowledge that God does have a sense of humour. And so does Charlie. For some reason she was wearing Big Daddy’s polo shirt. The damn thing came down past her elbows, its bottom edge almost to her knees. Starched, it could have been used as a bell tent. Of course, as it got wetter it stretched and drooped even more until she could run about inside without it appearing to move! We gasped wetly up the massive hill marvelling at the amount of oxygen we could (and had to!) suck out of the rarified air. Chopstix was actually wearing her lungs outside her heaving body in order to try and get some breath back. Caboose, Trembler, Lonely and I took on Zebedee’s first joke of the day which was a hillside, off-track trail that rambled around the undergrowth before rejoining the track again. How he loves his little japes. Another appeared later in the forest, in the shape of a massive swallow hole. We ran in one end then had to scramble up the steep, loose earth side on the other. Motox and Artifuct sensibly declined the offer but Glittertits, Soapy, Cloggs, Bomber and Wally (to name a few) all got up safely. We popped out of the trees and on to a dank, wet, windswept mud field. I was amused to see Trembler and Blowjob trotting straight across, Greenfly trotting in from the right and Caboose trotting out to meet him. The Hares had obviously done a good job here and there was a general bit of moo-ing and baa-ing before we sorted it out and ended up on a village green by a church. It was flipping freezing and we wasted no time at the impromptu regroup. "Is that way the short cut?" I asked a shivering Florence. "No." She replied without thinking. That did me and off I shot. It turned out to be the right way. Blowjob and the aprropriately named Iceman followed. Into the forest we went, the pack in full pursuit. We lost, then found the trail which went along the top of a small ridge over which I tripped and ran headlong down into a leaf-filled gulley. Caboose and Charlie followed. "Er, Hashgate. Why are we down here when the flour is up there?" Queried Caboose. He quickly understood that sheep-like trail running can bring problems. We climbed out of the gulley in a friendly group.

We ran through fields. We climbed hills. We tripped lightly through fairy glens. We slipped on shiggy and moss and lichen. We sussurated (great word!) through semi-dry beech leaves. Eventually Greenfly, Iceman and I heaved ourselves up out of a bosky wood and spotted the short cutters. For some stupid reason we headed away from the comfort of their welcome and followed the flour blobs that petered out across the opposite field (another Zeb joke, no doubt). And then we came back. "Nearly half way now." Uttered the cheery Zeb. Sadly this was not a joke.

The regroup followed on quickly and we all stood and steamed gently beneath the dripping trees before dashing off again. Somehow I got behind Mother Theresa and Chopstix, the former lamenting that her bum seemed to be growing bigger all the time. I surmised that, even if she lifted her leg over the next stile, by the time she came to get the other leg over each buttock would have grown so much she would be stuck astride it. Luckily she found this amusing but I legged it smartish just in case. Much shiggy came our way and Cloggs pushed Ladybird into a deep pile so that he lost a shoe, to our tumultuous applause. I met the lovely virgin Shyeena who is a diver. Which was quite useful in that weather. Blowjob and I ran each other into the ground. Greenfly lost it down a very muddy track. Trembler, Baldrick and BGB had to be rescued from a bar-5. But finally we came upon a familiar, very steep downward track that led to the Assendon turn-off and I yomped it in with Charlie, Caboose and Ladybird to the haven of a dry car. Bliss!

RA Motox broke with tradition and postponed the Down Downs due to bad weather and lack of shelter. What a kind old softy. So I shall propose some virtual Down Downs myself :-