As well as wet it is unseasonably warm, and Old Faithful is wearing too many layers, working up a sweat as we scamper thither and yon, some runs down his forehead into his eyes, and instinctively he screws up forefinger and thumb and has a good rub, leaving a thick glutinous mass on his brow.

Oh! enough griping from the hares, by the time we were ready for the main event the rain had stopped and Kinky was trying to get a laugh with some jokes at the expense of the Irish but was only able to raise a small titter amongst the Hashers.

We all said a "welcome back" to Wayne before Old Faithful attempted to explain that there would be numbered sticks to collect en route indicated by a system of marking that's far too complicated to go into here.

Then with great ceremony the JMs announced a new tradition for the holder of the Ha-sh-it, in the form of a special tee shirt to be worn by the aforementioned person. Just the one shirt to be passed on at the end of each run, was it said that it should not be washed? ... surely not, that would be unsanitary insanity.

Having run out of anything more to say, a dozen Hashers entered Hollybank Wood in search of glutinous masses and prize sticks. What did they find first?, that would be MUD. Hiawatha was an early FRB as we slithered and slid through the scrub North on the Western edge of the woods until nearly in the roar of the traffic passing Southleigh Park House.

The lure of a stick took Dr Blood to the limit in this direction while the pack made a one eighty North East alongside Emsworth Common Road.

We could go on like this describing every twist and turn, I,d be boring, you'd be bored, lets cut to the highlights like "Hash Of The Day"

• The Regroup in the grove of ancient yews, where we consumed a bottle of Baileys, shot by shot until I swear I saw a few of the little people dancing, "look, just over there!".
• Then there was the competition for the stick on the other side of the big ditch that's a main tributary of The Ems, Wayne having a happy splashy time.
• Loosing Blind Ness for a while.
• The Ref takes a tumble, lets see that again in slow motion, was he offside?.
• Sausage Lottery muttering something about something nearly being sucked off as we traversed the squelchy stuff.

In the car park, Pru arrived, set up a table and covered it with a veritable banquet, for which we are very thankful; the cans of Guinness came out and we started on down downs while munching.

Due to the effects of Baileys and Guinness, I am afraid Bambi lost track of all the out of tune tunes which were rendered while various Hashers glug glug glugged. Certainly The Hares, The Ref and Dr Blood as fallers, Hiawatha with an ARMY tee shirt that obviously was missing the first letter, B.

Spiderman inherited the Has-sh-it loo seat and new tee shirt for telling us all to remember that the clocks go back one hour just before the next Hash.

And finally the sticks, remember them? very generously Old Faithful swapped each one for a prize, the booby sort were cans of good old Irish stew, the star prize was a bottle of Baileys, I think it went home with The Ref. Perhaps he will see the Little People around Selsey soon.