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Est 1983 - ON PRES: Robin Low

Run    Date       Hare(s)    DescriptionMapRef1:500001:250001:10000More
8722017-06-18 11:00Hairbrush & 2FF - Summer BBQAldmodington SZ824978

Phew! what a scorcher, there was tar bubbling out of the road as I cycled over to Two Ferets Fighting's place for our annual BBQ, passing stationary cars on Birdham straight.

Thankfully Treefeller had facilitated an erection of a brace of gazebos which provided shade while we waited impatiently for late comers.

Hairbrush kicked off by welcoming 2FF's neighbours Nancy, Bob, and their daughter Amelia, then mentioned the battle of Waterloo and the birth of Prancer. We did not launch into a chorus of Hashy Birthday we are far too refined for such vulgarities, at least while still sober. Then, as Bika, Ginny, and Hash Angel arrived we set out into the searing hot late morning sun, our own shadows forming a black dot around our feet.

At first it was west on Third Ave and then north alongside the shiny glasshouse with Dancer ahead, full of vim and vigour admiring his reflection, instinctively ducking as a distracted pigeon flew, whack!, straight into the glass above his head, a dramatic moment.

At the end of the glass a check saw us spread out, with Dr Blood heading west into the wheat followed by Bambi who, seeing Dr Blood return, wrongly called a false trail causing confusion because it was a fish hook that eventually also caught Pink Flamingo and Splasher.

Would you believe it?, no more than one hundred yards further and another fish hook, catching Old Faithful, The Ref, Bambi and Dancer. We emerged north on Merley Lane then headed west on Somerley Lane, both checks taking an unusual length of time as the pace dropped to a mixture of walking and languid lollop. We hardly noticed yet another fish hook that caught Pink Flamingo, Dancer, Bob and Splasher, before reaching a regroup at Bracklesham Lane.

A busy road this, with pavement on one side only, so our Elf and Safety hares made it clear that we should head south on Bookers Lane, consequently we followed a newly invigorated Dancer as he whizzed off in that direction. He did not pause at the check on the entrance to the caravan site as he found flour ahead, soon a sizeable bunch had formed a chasing posse, in the shade of the lane.

As you might guess, we all had to retrace our steps as Dancer reached a good old fashioned false trail mark. There was a short sniff around the entrance to the caravan site, before the hares drew our attention to the invisible footpath east over a low brick wall at the top of the lane. After squeezing through a clump of rampant elder and over a dodgy stile we emerged into an infinite hay field and then an infinite field of waist high wheat, with the path cutting a trench in cereal there was no where else to go until we reached Mereley Lane again, at its southern tip.

There was a bit of nattering here as we filtered out of the field, some of it concerned the total difference of togs betweed Dancer and Cheesy Chips, the former practically running nude and the latter wearing most of a striped hijab, it's a question of death from radiation or death from heat stroke.

OK, continuing east on a footpath, Ah! another fish hook, bad news for The Ref, Dr Blood, Tumble Tot and Hash Angel, before we found ourselves at the rear of Earnley Gardens where the Flutterbies are, although we did not spot any.

Yet another fish hook here, for The Ref, Bika, Dancer and Vixen, before embarking on a short hands and knees crawl north under ivy encrusted birch, or was it beech that I cracked my head on?, that favoured the shorter members of the pack.

Then we were able to stand tall and stretch at the end of Bob's garden and continue north through his wild grasslands on a specially mown path to reach the On-In at Third Avenue after fifty five minutes of desiccatory hashing.

If you can try and imagine how hot we felt as we returned and then multiply the discomfort by ten you might have some idea of how hot Pru and Treefeller looked around the smoking BBQs, one real, one veggie, (the food that is, not Pru and Treefeller). Treefeller's face was a shade of vermilion that would confound an impressionist.

Then followed the traditional quaffing of cool drink and munching of hot lamb chops (Motto on bottle says "Mary had a little lamb, with her ready to use mint sauce"), burgers and bangers, all delicately cooked to perfection.

Old Faithful dispensed the raffle tickets, a tricky operation, involving taking cash, making change, tearing and folding paper, eating and drinking all at the same time. Are we sure that some of the numbers did not end up between his buns?.

We formed a circle and Hairbrush initiated a big round of applause for Two Ferrets Fighting, Pru, Treefeller, Bob, himself and everyone else that had made it all happen.

He then picked on Bambi and Dr Blood for messing up the first fish hook, and Prancer because it was his birthday. The Hash-It was presented to The Ref who complained that he had not had enough of a run.

We moved on to the raffle, which was obviously fixed, again. Those that did win something found that it was red hot, having been in the sun all morning. That lovely bottle of 2011, oak aged, Amarone della Valpolicella (15%) had morphed into cooking grade Madeira by the time Bambi got it home.

On – On ! Bambi.

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