We were ushered out onto the roadway with dire warnings of not crossing the A27 went round the bend (literally) until we found the first check.
The hares had been very thoughtful and rather than let us get bored they thought that picking our way through stinging nettles would be a good idea. It wasn’t.
After some more foolhardy members had acquired some interesting bumps the true trail was found and off we went. The trail crossed the road and doubled back past Mussolini’s house. Mussolini was still in bed and it was only the call of the pack bellowing On, On that roused him from his slumbers and reminded him that there was a barbecue in an hour or so.
The trail led us toward the A27 but we knew we were not allowed to cross (not unless Mummy and Daddy said so) which meant we milled about in a dazed fashion (no change there then) until Bambi pointed out that the road going through Fishbourne was the A259 not the A27. Then we were allowed to cross.
Even without hills and woods the pack was kept closely knit (and talking of knitting, does anybody remember John the Hash Horn’s woolly hash hat? If so wouldn’t it be nice to have such winter attire?). The hour came and went and the pack began to rumble (or was that their stomachs?). We recrossed the A259 after a nice trip around Fishbourne Social Club’s playing fields and headed back towards home, or so we thought.
It was not to be as we were led unfairly into the weeds and reeds of Chichester Harbour and then began a merry dance round the yacht basin.
Finally however when talk of setting records for the longest hash had subsided a cry from the front proclaimed ‘On In!’.
The pack galloped with eager anticipation back to the grub just in time for the heavens to open and drench any hasher foolish enough to step out from under the tent awning.
Still, hashers are nothing if not resourceful and in the time it takes for a politician to change his policy we had another tent up and the festivities began.
Grub of all description followed by an assortment of puds until the highlight of the summer the hash raffle. The rules were amended so that prices had to claimed even if you had already won such fantastic items as musical pens and self cleaning plant pots.
The raffle took place and the pack began to depart with full tums and a smile on their faces.

A long but enjoyable run and hospitality offered by Spiderman and even a downpour to make us feel at home. The midsummer hash can you beat it?
On On


Humble Scribe