The weather forecast was for rain and yet more rain but in the event it was a nice sunny day for our band of happy hashers to meet at North Mundham. Numbers had been swelled by roping in assorted Hungarian visitors and naive boyfriends and so the pack was of a respectable size.
The can man had rushed back from Poland only the day before and straight to the hash along with Sophia who came along wearing boyfriend Jairoís clothes!! (Donít ask)
The JMís gave us a short woffle and then The Chamois led us off to the first dot (and some of us even got that wrong!). The Doc was on his bike so we were suspicious at the offset in case dots were amended and relaid etc.
We had a vague idea that there would be a shortage of hills but that was the sum total of our knowledge regarding the course. Mind you the sum total of a hashers knowledge about anything would almost worse than useless so I donít know why I mention it.
Bambi and Mr Bean charged off with gusto (gusto is an expression not a hash nickname) and the cries of On On were soon heard.
We crossed a few fields with the pack being strung out a bit but within a short while it dawned on us that we were approaching Hunston. How we got there we were not entirely certain but hash Flash soon found the true trail (whilst Old Faithful did not) and was rushing across the land back towards Pagham. The pack would have moved quicker but The Eskimo and her sister assisted by various Spanish and Turkish hashers found a blackberry bush and the whole thing turned into a locust style picnic hash. The JMs did their best and the pack were rounded up and sent on their way to look for sawdust and not to gather passing food. The Chamois gave a warning to would be shortcutters that the next 5 miles could be avoided if they wished to follow her and some delicate souls took this option. The rest bravely rushed forward across the fields where they found yet another blackberry bush. Moving swiftly on (well as swiftly as overweight and unfit hashers can move) the trail doubled back and The Doc was seen on his bike awaiting the pack.
The scent of home began to drift through the air and the pack headed north (that sounds rather grand as though I know where we were going but in truth we headed downwards and now we were heading back). All was going well until we came upon a large box of free apples where the pack descended like locusts (does nobody eat at home in this pack?). We continued and met up with Tigger, Rasta and other shortcutters who were disappointed not to have been at the feast.
Just a couple more checks and the trail with the On In was found and the pack got back to the chariots just before the rain came.
After a short discussion the hashit was awarded to Yegane, not for stopping to eat blackberries and apples but for deserting us and heading off to the British Virgin Isles to become a tax lawyer for the mafia. So the deed done we all trotted off down the road to the Walnut Tree for apres hash drinks. A nice flat run with the weather well organised, many thanks the hares!