Wet. Wet, Wet, Wet. I would like to apologise to the hash for describing the last hash as wet.
The last hash was as a mere drizzle compared to this one.
The pack (a fair size pack) turned up at Eartham woods in the pouring rain to sport an interesting blend of wet weather gear. A bit like deep sea trawlermen turning up for the London Marathon in Souíwesters. All except Hash Flash who insisted on wearing shorts and a T shirt. There were gasps of admiration but the effect was ruined when after an hour of standing in the wet his wet
T shirt clung to his finely honed hashers body to reveal that he was wearing a vest!!
So ladies fantasies dispelled we had to endure the hares blaming each other for oversleeping and not having enough time to lay the trail properly.
The JMís had heard enough of such rubbish and with a few curt exhortations sent the packoff into the woods.
The pack swam northwoods, sorry, ran northwoods and shortly found the first check.
It was fairly obvious which way the trail went and so they all took the falsie just to make the hares feel good. After scurrying back to the true trail we climbed upward through the mud to the next check. It must be said albeit grudgingly, that the two experienced and devious hares managed to keep the pack together and also keep turning them around.
The area of Eartham wood is well known to all of the pack and it was a case of bluff and double bluff the whole time. There was use of a loop and the rather dubious practise of laying the trail as they went but the pack took it all in their stride.
After half an hour we were all so wet that our usual boundless enthusiasim was beginning to falter but Old Faithful was there to rally the pack and chase down every falsie.
There were highpoints of the hash that should be mentioned - Spidermanís yellow wet suit (see trawlerman comment above), Whisperís camoflage baseball cap (why do baseball players need camoflage?), Eskimoís scarf (why does having a sodden scarf around your neck keep you warm?)
I could go on but suddenly the trail became familiar and we began to head for home.
A wet and bedraggled pack dripped into the car park and gathered to hear the JMís assesment of the hash. The JMís cited one crime after another as reasons why people should get the hashit but in the end decided to award it to Buster the hash dog for undue enthusiasim. (Is this a first - a dog getting the hashit?) However Buster proved that he had more brains than most hashers as he shot off back to the car as soon his name was mentioned and refused to come out for his award.
So it was awarded in abstentia and we all went back to the cars to peel off wet clothes.
The apres hash was at The George, Eartham where we recieved our usual gruff and unfriendly welcome to discover that Evrim and Arif had decided to follow Roger and Miraim to the pub and got most of the way back to Chichester before realising that perhaps The Doc and The Chamois were going home!!! Dohhh! So the hash ended in the usual chaos. Still never mind just two more this year. On On!