Nearly more Hares than Hashers, well, not quite but getting on that way. This was not surprising
as another wave of arctic air wafted its way over the Sussex plains forcing us to get the Long
Johns out of the airing cupboard once again.
Kinky called us to order, risking having his lips freeze to the small end of his bugle while
Deer Hunter took this to mean let's all turn rabid, barking and growling with abandon.
Vixen then told us all about these six farmers who caught a bus in Paris in 1662 but were
thrown off and had to do a space walk to get to Tolpuddle, I think that was the gist of it.
We were just starting off as Snake Charmer and Pocket Rocket and Belle arrived,
jumped out of their chariot and desperately fought their way into warm woollies before
we could get too far ahead of them. They did not have to worry because there was a
distinct lack of pace about the pack as we headed south alongside the Spinney to the
excitement of the first check.
Canman had managed to run a brush over the floor of his hen house to obtain a rough
mixture of sawdust and God knows what else, this is what had been used to lay the trail,
we were lucky that no one had called in a Haz-Mat team given the current state of alert.
West next, out on the long long bitterly exposed path to Church Farm, there were checks
however Kinky guessed them all right and got so far ahead of everyone he was so lonely he
decided to wait for us as he emerged on to Hook Lane.
Here Popeye caught us up with no excuse for his tardiness offered as we dashed across Oving
Road on to Church Road in persuit of Spiderman who was intent on visiting St Mary the Virgin.
This was a false trail, however, the mark had been squished under the wheels of a churchgoer
which resulted in a lot of head scratching before a return to Oving Road to head south towards
The Mill then east via Park Lane and back on to Hook Lane, where Pancsi was attracted down
the Doggie Day Care road before another impromtu re-group at the start of the FP that goes
directly back to The Spinney.
When we restarted everyone assumed a return from here and rushed off on the FP to
find a falsie, then re-trace many steps before continuing on the lane towards Woodgate.
It must be noted that by now our progress had become painfully slow, probably because it was
into the biting wind-chill from the east and not helped by breakdown of the pack into various
nattering groups not really interested in looking for sawdust. The odd efforts of lone individuals
was enough to get us east over the A29 and then north into the heath land of Manor Farm to
follow our noses to the Sunday Roast aromas of The Wilkes Head ....aaah Bisto.
There was no prize to anyone for guessing where we would go from here, left at the top of
Church Lane and straight back to The Spinney seemed obvious, too obvious perhaps, as
Canman had devised a devious detour south then west through the houses to approach
The Spinney from the south.
All was going to plan until even Canman could not recall how it should go, so we wandered
around for a short while as his face got a little redder until some little wisps of wind blown
sawdust was spotted. We reached the On-In after one hour and twentyfour minutes of deep
freeze hashing to quickly change and dive into the welcoming arms of Canman's cosy home
with its roaring open fire.
Formalities were dispensed rapidly, thank the hares, tell Dag off for snowball aggression,
Snake Charmer for Vaseline misuse, then in his self abusive way Prancer gave himself the
Hash-It because he had forgotten to bring it.
We then settled into consuming the various nuts, sarnies, Custard Creams, Kit Kats, coffee,
tea, wine, and yes even beer that Canman had so generously provided for us.
On On ! Bambi.
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