It was a mist and mellow fruitfulness day as 68 Hashers descended on Forestside village hall causing mayhem
in the small parking area much to the consternation of Malibog who was wandering around shouting "don't put it in here, put it in there!".
No one was listening to him (so, what's new?).
Most of the Hashers were from the Isle of Wite, or White or Wight or Wyte or however Treefeller spells it, one
recognisable face being that of Iggy and his semi human companion Beer Pump.
There was a committee of Hares on hand to attempt an explanation of the flour arrangement.
Also they had placed chocolates at the end of some of the Falsies, which was fine as long as you could
recognise a Falsie. Soon we were on our way and queuing to mount the stile into Stanstead Forest.
Initially a longish hack due west left most of the IOWers a little dizzy as they are not used to running for
such a long time in the same direction without falling off a cliff.
Then we headed south, further into this featureless expanse of autumn colour, crushing chestnuts with every
stride. As we converged with the road opposite the FP into Hare Warren (sic) a "Back Check" left us wandering
round aimlessly (so what's new?) until we noticed the Hares practically ushering us on to the straight and narrow.
Heading west again, we did some zig zagging before a Fish Hook had us counting to more than five.
Competition for chocolate fixes kept us moving along at a good pace despite someone's largish pooch getting
in the way at every opportunity.
Having almost reached Rowland's Castle we turned north west and another Fish Hook meant counting to much
more than five before reaching the On-In after one hour and fifteen minutes of mellow hashing.
Circling up, with the aroma of hot nosh wafting from the kitchen, apart from lame jokes from Kinky we did all the
things that Chi Hash normally does not.
Down Downs, singing, unprompted displays of merriment, etc.
Of note the nuisance dog owner who turned out to be a virgin, the Hares of course, someone purloining cutlery
from the ferry, the chocolate gatherers, he who cannot spell Wight, a round the head scarf wearer with backpack,
and more.
Kinky forgot to award the Hash-It to anyone, does that mean that he carries it next?.
We then consumed the nosh, a few more samples from the cask, and did a lot more nattering into
the early afternoon.
Much praise and appreciation must go to organisers Baldrick, Thumper, and Kinky, Chefs Tigger and Treefeller,
Washer Uppers (with the mild green hands) Olive Oyl and Popeye, Dryers Tigger, Soapbox, BloodyL and others,
oh yes! the Hares Snake Charmer, Dag, Pancsi and Splasher, and you! if I forgot to mention you.
On On! Bambi.
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