So the weather was glorious as a healthy sized pack gathered in The Spur pub car park. Flash and Panda turned up in a new but old flash car which prompted heckling from Dag. We welcomed Bosnia back and also said hello to Chichester hash virgins Tim (Lion Sack ) and Deborah who travelled all the way from Calgary and Surbiton respectively to be with us.
It was with sad hearts and minds that Bambi spoke about the passing of Roger ‘The Doc’ Freeman, one of our founder members and committed hashers. We held a two minute silence in respect for all the Roger meant to us and the good memories we have of him. Heartfelt condolences to Miriam and his family.
After this, we were given some warning of what to expect on this hash which included the potential to be run over by a 4x4, shot by clay pigeon enthusiasts, or being set fire to by scouts but luckily no roads to cross....always safety first!
As you will come to expect when I write these notes, I have no idea of direction and location. However, we quickly stumbled across a group of beavers. Everyone has a different picture in their mind of what this means but in this case, it was a group of scouts. Pancsi yelled for us to return from up the track and presented us with his gorgeous 9 month old granddaughter (Baby Godiva) who was helping with the camp out.
Off we went again and those checking out the falsies for others - usually Two Ferrets Fighting, Popeye, Old Faithful and Pancsi began to moan about the length of them. Bambi immediately blamed Kinky, who blamed Bambi and so on....on!
It was a great hash through varied countryside as we arrived back after about 1 hour and 15 minutes of sweaty hashing. The sun had shone down on us throughout. In the circle, it was mentioned that other things had gone down, which included Spiderman and Dog Whistle taking a tumble; Splasher’s hangover subsiding, myself for stopping at puddles in which to wash my car keys but it was awarded to Tim (hash name) for being too ambitious and checking things out.
Panda suggested that a memorial seat be purchased in memory of those we have lost from the hash and this was a very welcomed suggestion.
We all retired to the garden for drinks, and myself and Dag got the cheese sweats from snaffling all the cheddar from the dishes on the bar. Probably covered in germs from people not washing their hands - what we like to call "wee cheese" but delicious none the less.
Another great way to spend a Sunday morning.