Damp But Still Perky

OldFart Malcolm Tor Hashgate Cerberus Premature and dog Molly Spex Foghorn Posh Bomber Tony(but see Down Downs) Keith Baldrick Ms. Whiplash Salome GBH Potty Nutcracker Glittertits Pissquick SlipperyNipple Muff ShutupWally Paella Honeymonster Lemming Mother Theresa Cheating John Kay(but see Down Downs) and dog Gnarler Motox KnackerCatcher Itsyor BGB C5 … and very much later Dumper Septic Lynda (they got lost)

A Hash Splash

There were just three things to avoid on this Hash. The first was the soldiers who were using the area as a training ground. The second was Lemming – it was very wet and muddy. The third was OldFart, for reasons I shall give later. Like I said, this lush area of dense pine forest is army territory and Trembler duly warned us about picking up anything shiny with a soldier attached to it (though Ms. Whiplash perked up visibly at the thought of a large, uniformed man standing to attention amongst the undergrowth). We On Outed across the road and splashed soggily into the forest whereupon Lemming could control himself no longer and indulged in some severe Scribe water abuse. A tad nippy it was too. Fortunately, one of Motox’s lollipops (handed round earlier) took my mind off the cold. Many others were enjoying the sweets. Indeed, most of the ladies seemed very pleased to have something to suck on in the woods. Even Posh pursed her delicate lips to savour this most downmarket of confectionary.

We rushed deeper into the woods, KnackerCatcher and Tony getting caught out early on by false trails. Honeymonster and I trolled merrily up another by a very full, grey lake with full, grey geese floating about on it who were regarding us with open-beaked curiosity. We stamped onwards and the words “… lost the hard drive. Damn thing wouldn’t reboot” whisked away like smoke in the wind as I passed OldFart and Itsyor. In the middle of the soaking forest, alive with the smell of pine, we hit the Short and Long split. KnackerCatcher, Premature and I burst up the woodland trail to the check and proceeded to go in all the wrong directions. Congratulations to either Spot or Trembler for that very sneaky backcheck false that caught me out. Eventually, Tony called the On through the trees over the hill and we all dashed there to watch him lose it down a false. You would think, would you not, seeing Premature skipping through the forest with red setter Molly at his side that he is something of a dog lover (let alone being married to Cerberus!). But apparently not. As a bedraggled looking Gnarler slipped between his feet on the muddy track he gave it a damn good shoeing. A very clear case of severe dog abuse that did not go unpunished by our venerable RA. The short run from here took us to a check with a rather large hill to our right. Cheating arrived. “Any of you buggers checked it out? Who’s calling?” He enquired in his blustery way. “No.” And. “Not me.” Came the answers. “S’pose I’d better do it.” He rasped caustically and trotted off to the hill. “S’pose you better had.” We replied very quietly and stood back to watch the show. Cheating attacked the lower slopes with all the gusto of Chris Bonnington on speed. Pebbles, gravel and mud spurted from under his shoes. He was a whirlwind of energy… for all of twenty seconds. The feet slowed to a drag. He began to wander right. Then left. The leaden limbs dragged forwards. We could hear the ragged breathing from where we stood, politely discussing the finer points of his Herculean efforts. At last, he topped the ridge, almost horizontal and we were very disappointed to hear him croak “On On” before staggering from view. We gave him a polite ripple of applause. Then we had to do it.

Into another bit of forest and OldFart was still at it. “Took it to be repaired. They needed to reload all the software. Blah. Blah.” Crikey. Would he never stop? I took off with Motox into a giant sandpit where the soldiers had played with their tanks and we were rather surprised when hardman Muff declined to get his tootsies wet in a large puddle and stepped daintily round the side of it. Premature was leading at this point and he told me later that when he had approached a large trailer in an open area he spotted GBH crouching down next to it (the Short Cutting B*****d). Thinking that the ever-vigilant ex-policeman would hear him and his panting dog coming up from behind, Premature neared the spot. Two inches away he uttered a polite “Hello GBH.” Our Welsh friend leapt skywards like a rocketing pheasant, turning scarlet red from the neck upwards (and probably downwards) and unleashing a foul tirade of sounds that seemed to have a lot of double ll’s pwr’s and gogoch’s in it. Premature backed off and slipped away, tugging Molly who had placed her paws over her ears.

The regroup arrived. A triangulation point by a huge puddle. Foghorn cruised right into the middle of it and covered poor Kay with a huge dollop of water. I chatted with Tor and Malcolm about the military thing we had found that you weren’t supposed to pick up while in the background Itsyor dozed quietly while Old Fart droned on and on about software replaced but not upgraded to the previous level, recurring problems, useless engineers. Frankly, I was surprised that Itsyor hadn’t run screaming for the pub and a medicinal pint or two some time ago. Luckily ShutupWally provided some diversion when he kindly allowed C5, Foghorn and Lemming to place him carefully in the leaf-strewn, muddy bottom of the central puddle. “Why’s it always me?” He bleated. If you don’t know by now Wally… Spex saved us the effort of checking out the trail by striding up to Hare Trembler and commanding “Is it this way?” What could the poor fellow do? He trembled. “Yes.” He replied meekly. Well done Spex. We raced off down the track to the crackle of distant gunfire.

This turned into quite a long cruise down straight tracks where unluckily I seemed to be at the front. The gunfire seemed to be getting nearer as I hurtled onwards. Try as I might, I could not get the checks wrong. But eventually I did and was caught up by Itsyor, who had finally managed to escape the grinding computer recovery story of OldFart. Perhaps he had booted him in the software so he crashed on the hard drive. Premature, KnackerCatcher and Tony all appeared too and we tore through the woods on the last bit, arriving back at the pub by 11:55! Before it opened!

More of a Hashing trail today, cleverly laid in just four grid squares on the map and no-one accidentally finding bits of the trail they weren’t supposed to have found yet. The forest was superb in its pine-smelling finery and no-one got shot by the soldiers hidden in the depths of the woods. The poor sods must have wondered what we were all doing!

Afterwards, we were all in the car park getting changed and Lemming had got his shorts off. Glittertits, resplendant in a lengthy towel and furry orange chest hair, crowed “I haven’t seen one that small. Har. Har!” Behind him, Pissquick nodded knowingly. “I have.” She mouthed. On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Motox presented the following :-

Up and Coming