The pack gathered in the car park with sighs of relief because there were no charges on a Sunday!
However a sense of unease began to creep in when after a short preamble from JM Bambi the hares explained that just to make it a bit more challenging they had laid the trail on Friday and the flour may still be around in places........
To make things even worse they told us it was not flat. Now this really worried the pack as we are all acustomed to the hares being economical with the truth regarding hills but when they tell you it is not going to be flat then how steep is it?!!!
So off we set down a small path around the back of Petworth town until we came to open fields and a path which led down. Now as all hashers know - what goes down must always go up (and usually twice as much as down), and this was no exception. The hil went up...and up... and up... and up... Apart from Sinbad who bounced up the hill like a billy goat on steroids, the rest of the pack puffed ever upwards through a herd of horses who looked a little alarmed to see a sea of yellow shirts in their fields. So the animals galloped away and soon after that so did the horses leaving a few straggling hashers to find the check.
The trail led through the woods until we came to a cottage with an outside swimming pool (obviously owned by an optimist) and a check giving a choice of trails.
Some keen hashers found the next check and a couple of falsies before being called back to the check before last. So like good little sheep following Bo Peep we went back to the check to go up another path to a check which led us back to the check where we were in the first place????
So through some more woods until we came to two lodges called Gog and Magog where The Can Man gave a quick history lesson about an Earl in previous times who rather than pay a road toll decided to make his own road around the toll and place the lodges and the entrance. So history repeats itself - another mad aristocratic running dog of imperialism who ignores his accountant (pay the toll, its cheaper!) and deprives the state and therefore the workersof their rightful taxes!!!
Sorry about that, I don’t know what came over me comrade!
On through a couple of fields and back into the town looking for flour until we came through a housing estate and one kindly couple seeing mad runners and a hashit , came out to offer some money for whichever charity we were running for. Unfortuantely some honest hasher explained the situation and so a the chance of a free round of drinks was lost.
So the pack drifted into the car park and gathered around the JM who proceeded to list the nominations for the hashit. James came close to receiving the trophy by wearing a BT style 118 running shirt which prompted many ‘We’ve got your number’ cries and also it could give passers by the impression that we were a serious running club. So all in all a serious crime but it paled into insignificance next to Mikki’s crime - she admitted to running in NEW SHOES!
So the deed was done and she had earned her first hashit.
A quick change and into the pub for apres hash. A nice run, thanks to the hares.