Well the first thing a good scribe should do is to thank those who stood in whilst I was dying. Well I thought I was dying but most women think that men exaggerate and that I just had the ‘flu. Anyway thanks to Whispers (and for those who are not sure who Whispers is, I have pictured him opposite.
Still back to the write up.... Due to the fact that we got caught up in a Remembrance Day Parade, the Eskimo and I turned up late and viewed with dismay the prospect of finding the pack. Lo and Behold! We were to be surprised! With only a little effort (and that’s the kind of effort I like) we heard voices raised calling, yes calling, On, On!!!
A few moments later and a large pack (yes I am talking about CHI H3) came galloping around the bend. So joining the throng we soon adopted the usual position of puffing up a muddy hill. Although not too bad Shiggy was in evidence throughout the day but still in manageable amounts. A few ‘normal’ checks and then a real sneaky - Old Faithful with semi-newcomer Paul Stross went down a hill to check out a trail coming back to report that there was nothing there.
Bambi soon reported that his trail had a falsie on it and there did not seem to be an opportunity for a back check. So rechecking the trail we found a spot near a stile and off we went if full pursuit. A newcomer asked if it was allowed for the trail to start after 100 metres and it had to be explained that these were HASH METRES which bore very little relation to the metres that he would use for accurate measurements. (Example; 100 cm = 1 metre BUT 100 Hash Metres = whatever the Hare feels is appropriate). However finding the trail was the easy part as even Rasta was complaining of losing her footing over the leafy and muddy trail. It was almost a joy to find that the trail was false and we had to trot back and find another. So back into Stansted Forest and a few more trails with the front runners beginning to stretch the pack out.
Another check, another puddle which gave Pancsi the chance to try and push 3-Star in but she deftly leapt the water jump like a filly at Hickstead, she didn’t even stop talking (well she was explaining that men are useless at shopping and every item in a shop had to be checked and tried on).
So the pack moved forward and surprisingly kept calling (Well all except Whispers) and heading for the Chariots. A check near to home and Old Faithful knew where he was and began to head back like a happy homing pigeon.
Unfortunately it was a very lost homing pigeon as he and all of those that followed had gone down the wrong path and had to come back again. A couple of more checks and the ON INN was spotted with a nice & steady ease down run back to a dry towel and a warm chariot.
The pack gathered and fought over new Sweat shirts and then the hashit was re-awarded to Paul (Stross, not Mussolini who seemed delighted that he had escaped) as he did not carry the Hashit when it was awarded to him!!!!! (Shock Horror!) Still no harm done and off to the Harvester for apres hash and the opportunity to hear some of the Can Man’s tall tales. An excellent hash with a good pack and lots of calling - are we in heaven?