Est 1983 - ON PRES: Robin Low
As it was the start of June in the British summer, it was only to be expected that the weather would be
wet and windy and a bit cold. We knew that the trail would be laid in flour because Miss Perfect was
there at the start in her black shorts with white flour hand marks all over them so we knew that the
trail was not sawdust. It appeared that she and Linda (Dog Whistle not the greyhound) had gone around the course that morning dragging Linda the dog with them who decided that it was all too much and spent the duration of the run asleep in the car. She showed more sense than most hashers.
JM Splasher called the pack to order (as Invisible was living up to her name again and was absent) but before he could begin Miss Perfect told him that the F word (football) was to be banned during the hash. Suitably chastised he handed over briefly to Sinbad who gave a run down of the French Hash and then over to the hares who gave little or no information but set us off down the road.
Your humble scribe had to follow along on mountain bike as the doctor’s of the NHS have declared my Achilles tendon a running free zone for the next three months!
The first check appeared quickly and Hash Flash led the way to the next check where we were all sure that the trail would go right and of course it went straight on. Jinking right across the harbour we scurried along the water’s edge being battered by the cold summer winds.
The trail led us out of Emsworth and into the wilds of the harbour until we came to a check where Spiderman decide foolishly to follow an obvious falsie and ended up at the back instead of leading the pack as he had been doing (that hashing!).
We cut across the back of some houses, through a gate or two until Sue Spooner managed to find a young boy with a large fish that needed investigating ( I couldn’t imagine Sue pulling a rod in the middle of the night with a bunch of fisherman, so it did intrigue me).
We came back to the main road and crossed to a trial that we ran along only 3 years ago, so we all knew where we were going. However the can Man and Selwyn still managed to get hopelessly lost but were rescued by the hares.
We went through a nice path by the river with swatches of gently blowing stinging nettles. At this point I had a reactionary moment and thought that if people are unemployed / asylum seeking / teenagers / bored (please delete as applicable) could they not be asked to clear these areas up?
So back towards the centre and everybody knew we were heading home. WRONG!
Off we went in the other direction through a nice housing area and unfortunately your humble scribe went ahead down a path and across a grassy area to be met by an irate local who demanded to know what I was doing cycling over his lawn. Apologies given I retreated and rejoined the pack who by now had the scent of home. Along the seafront until finally the On Inn was seen. We all rushed back, changed and sought refuge in the Bluebell pub where Dog Whistle was given the hashit, but as she had already gone it will be a nice surprise for her to carry next time. An interesting hash which all enjoyed. On On!