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Report 1449
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ONCE EVERY ELEVEN YEARS IS OFTEN ENOUGH!
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The shadow of the great Timbo (well, all right, he is slimmer these days) loomed large over this trail. It requires much craftsmanship to lay a full length trail in a single rather dreary water meadow, keep the pack together, and return us all to the bucket in high spirits. Let us say that Hairy Buns is not yet Timbo.....
"No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be. Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt an easy tool Deferential, glad to be of use, Polite, cautious, and meticulous...."
Anyone other than our own Glasscruncher recognise the text? A clue: it is a Love Song...
At all events it is better to be an attendant lord than not hash at all, as someone has doubtless remarked.
Which is what most of you chose not to do this Sunday!!!! Where were you all, idle men and women of Surrey??
So who were the select , the choice few who made it? The GM, yes, yes, the GM, who made it early, under his own steam; and two ex-GMs, TO and our Uncle Gerry - who this week missed only half the Circle. Three Japanese: Country Bumpkin, Taco Bell, and a virgin, Nakada-San, who made us a courteous speech before drinking his down-down. We don't get many like that... Madonna was there, dead proud of solving a check where Popeye had failed to see the flour; for that matter Dr Death had spotted a check circle on the only mound in the area, which circle had also escaped the vision of our Popeye...
Mother Brown was there, remarking gloomily that he seldom came and today had justified his reluctance. Red Eye gave Bonny her exercise. Four did the "full trail" - i.e., found a loop near the end where the rest of us simply found the In Trail -namely Popeye, Tequil'Over, Chunderous, and Tosser. Add First On - and your scribe - and you have the complete list of participants, though Mrs G was somewhere or other, and Low Profile, due for his knee op on Tuesday, joined us at start and finish.
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You think perhaps I should mention the hares? Hmmm. It is an eerie experience to finish the trail in a completely empty car park... Normally the front runner finds SCBs, or the Knitting Circle, or non-hashers, or at the very least the hares. Today, not a soul was in sight.....
So where were the hares? Sitting comfortably in the pub, that's where, feet up in front of a roaring fire, quite indifferent to the thought that thirsty hashers might want beer.
And did they then provide beer? They did not. Cider was today's tipple, a very pale cider; our less-than-local expert, Red Eye, identified it as White Lightning, which - he avers - is a favourite with winos.
How long did we take? 54 minutes. You might suppose, with all these many crimes, that the hares would really get it in the neck; but Hairy Buns has such a disarming smile, G&T looked so happy, and Shagger was in such a good mood at having behaved so virtuously, that it all passed off very mildly. Like the cider....
Tequil'Over was awarded a bottle of wine, though for the wrong reason; he should have had it for wading the river, up to his arse in alligators (well, very cold water) where everyone else went round by the bridge.
You are hereby spared the details of the trail round the Moor. Let us just say a right-hander which reached the reservoir - and then, so help us, a stretch of trail alongside the bank of that reservoir which went on, and on, and on, and on, before we came to the next check. We also went under a lot of bridges, but no one was in the mood for arousing lively echoes. We would hardly have heard them anyhow; what with the A30 traffic, and the M25 traffic, and aeroplanes every 30 seconds, we could not even hear the calls of On On.
Frankly, this is not a good venue for hashing. Unless, of course, you are Timbo.
And most of us are not!
ON ON FRB
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