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Report 1441
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So why so few? Are we to blame the weather - which did indeed look unpromising, but became in fact largely dry? Or the rival shenanigans, with Brannigans, in Barnes? Perish the thought - SH3 disloyal? Or the reputation of the hare? Who would dare even whisper such words?
A mystery then, and an ox on your tongue ( a perfectly good Greek proverb, from a play by Euripides, well known in French - “boeuf sur la langue” - but I have never seen it in English).
Naturally the quality of those present more than made up for the quantity. Popeye asserts that Pistoffen have a cultural tradition in which the write-up mentions everyone who took part; a tall order for Surrey, but perhaps I can remember some names. In groups; I can scarcely recall a more fragmented hash. The only
ones - as far as I know - who did what the hare intended, and only that (the miserable and unimaginative conformists!) were Stilton, FRB, Teetotal, Red Eye, and Hans der Schwanz. Popeye did a fair share, for him, but we ran out of his flour wanchors. Dissa took advantage of GH3 knowledge.
Lord Raleigh finished alone (Marie never left the car, even for the circle!). Country Bumpkin and Tako Bell were with us when the absurd check was solved - at least a Km from the check to the flour. But thereafter CB preferred to check south, and, like a loyal wife,...
I am not sure what Quasimodo got up to; his story was that he had to get back to his car quickish. Gunga Dick made a welcome appearance with, I think, his grandson and the boy’s mother: inexplicably they entrusted this child to Tosser, who was still not in when the circle was over. Gilbert was in when the
conformists landed, as were Glasscruncher, Strumpet, Bumble, and Linda. And my apologies to heroes and
heroines whom I have forgotten (“I can remember your name, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your face....”).
As you can see, 20 would be an optimistic total.
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Well, and the quality of the run? I cannot claim it was predictable, at least until we got to the Sea Horse in Shalford; so much so that at one streamside check the hare had to call the solution himself, so little did the front runners even contemplate a long back check. (He excused this deed by asserting that the flour had
become obliterated.) Obviously enough, if you look at the map, the Wey Navigation played a significant part in all this; we were lucky that it had only burst its banks in penny numbers, so that our feet were less wet than last week. And - please continue looking at the map! - once the Chantries were in sight we all knew where to go. The way up was made remarkable by the gorges which the rains had dug out of the arable land; impressive....
At the circle FRB was given a down-down for writing write-ups about FRB, Linda for doing stretch
exercises, Gunga Dick for supposing Tosser a suitable guardian for an innocent child, and Glasscruncher for reasons which escape me. But we made it brief; Hans had announced a mere 8.8 Km, in 1.7 hours, which is almost unbelievably slow; these instruments worry me! Do we really hash at walking speed??
So, two highlights from last week: Bumble, that epitome of civic responsibility, throwing a cigarette still burning brightly onto a pile of tinder; and Mrs Robinson, remarking as she saw Glasscruncher spill his beer, “Well, I thought you bright enough to think and drink at the same time”. FRB
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