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Est 1983 - ON PRES: Robin Low

RunDateHare(s)DescriptionMapRef1:500001:250001:10000 Aerial
6822010-03-28Can-Man & BambiSlindon The Spur Pub SU970081

I wonder what the collective term is for a gathering of hashers ? , a "pack" I suppose, however that seems too tame. How about a "confusion" of hashers ?.
Anyway, whatever it is, it was a small one that gathered in the pub carpark on a bright dry morning with a cool westerly threatening to usher in something wet later on.
The now usual history lesson covered the start of the Crimean war in 1854 and the end of the Spanish civil war in 1939.
Dogwhistle volunteered to stand in for Soapbox while he is otherwise occupied elsewhere, she threatened to bring a little femininity to the proceedings. I don't think that Soapbox will appreciate being replaced by a woman, it's all part of life's rich pageant.

So after these little diversions we remembered what we had come to do, and set out south down the imaginatively named B2132 with Flash and Old Faithful showing an unusual enthusiasm for pounding the tarmac.
Both took nice long falsies at the first check so it was left to Dr Blood to sniff out the true trail north east into Madehurst Wood and then blot his copy by taking a shortcut right in front of the GM at the next.

The pack became all stretched out as we headed north, and then all bunched as we hit a regroup in order to attempt the dangerous crossing of the main road by Chichester Lodge.
It reminded me of those scenes from Africa where the wildebeests are attempting to ford the crocodile infested river with the cars taking the place of the crocs and hashers the place of the bewildered beasts.
Safely across the black river, the pack took little time to sniff out the next series of checks which took them on an anticlockwise tour of Baycombe Wood and then south down Mill Lane where things ground to a big halt when Panda had a visual aberration and "saw" the check at the bottom as a falsie.
Through some twisted logic that I failed to follow she seemed to blame it all on Flash as usual.

After the postmortem we all headed somewhat predictably down to the village pond and then further to Park Lane where a saboteur had obliterated a long section of the trail.
Some were tempted to head on-in from here but had to come back and follow the trail west along the edge of the wood and then north back to the school, finally taking the obscure path behind the school over to the spur, reaching the chariots after one hour and twenty minutes.

After thanking himself for laying the trail the JM deferred to our temporary mistress for nominations which included Pink Flamingo for flaunting her brand new bright blue chariot, Panda for seeing things, OF for sitting on the bench by the school, and awarding the Hash It to Dr Blood for his shortcutus inflagrantis.

Then into The Spur of course, for the usual, which was nice.

Bambi.

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