What a brilliant day for hash it was ! As Bika says "God is a hasher" and she was smiling on us as we arrived at Scoutlands with our tasty morsels. Treefeller's charcoal was already ignited and the raffle table fully loaded as we were called to order. Two newbies, Irene "I'm only walking" and young Casper in charge of Can-Man.
The usual prefuncutuaries were dispensed, it's flat, watch out for chariots etc and then we spilled out from Scoutlands like a shoal of migrating salmon.
Without much difficulty we found our way up to the east of the water works, across Portsdown Hill Road, over the brow and down to the subway beneath Crookhorn Lane, where The Ref took delight in testing the echo echo. While we were checking the many possible ways to go from here, who should arrive but Mussolini, saying "I thought I would have a l ie-in this morning because you all go so slowly I can always catch up".
From here it was south up the hill again and along the edge of the south part of the golf course to a regroup that enabled us to take in the magnificent view.
Then it was down, and west to a check right in front of the gates of Fort Purbrook where Hash Flash gave us a lecture about how The French are our natural enemies and how the fort had scared them away etc.
Luckily someone found the trail before Can Man could get into full flow with other historical trivia.
A bit of a slog followed, via Hilltop Cr, The Brow, and south on London Rd to The George which we passed by even though it was full of beer. West along Portsdown Hill Road saw us floundering for trail in front of the mobile phone transmitters. Eventually the radiation warmed up our miniscule hasher brains enough to find a way out leaving Sinbad on a falsie that appeared to end in Southampton.
Thence via a flight of steep steps and we entered a different world, a green lush hollow with its own Aladin's cave cut into the chalk. Another long falsie in here fooled most of the pack before we re-emerged into the real, noisy world further south on London Road.
Next it was east through the common heading for Down End Road which must be a busy place on a Saturday night judging by the prophylactic count which reached five.
A final few cynical falsies that were temptingly in the direction of the burgers made sure that we were all in a state of exhaustion as we stumbled down Farlington Avenue and the On-In after one hour and twentytwo minutes.
There were a load of nominations, some for sunbathing, some for being SCBs, The Gnu for crossing the road when there was an underpass, and finally the Hash-It awarded to Mussolini for not only being late but also for his comments about our pace.
There was a big vote of thanks for those that made the event possible, Pru, Panda, TreeFeller, Old Faithful, Hash-Flash, thanks for a great time and also whoever helped clear up after, because I know that I didn't.