We are starting to take these warm Sundays for granted, it's going to be a shock when inevitably we get lashed with cold rain, however until then, to quote Phil Collins, just another sunny Hash for you and me in Paradise.
The George with it's verdant overflow car park was a perfect venue to welcome three antipodean visitors, Sticky Date and Captain Pugwash (Malcolm Mann) founder of the Master Bateman's Bay HHH in NSW, also Lynne a Kiwi friend of Tigger (yes she has some).
Prancer had been too lazy to do much research into the local history of Finchdean which meant that unfortunately we were not able to receive one of his intensely interesting historical insights. The hares attempted to explain our markings to the visitors, this resulted in an argument amongst them regarding a Regroup which was cut short as the dog's usual crescendo drowned their voices and prompted us to start Hashing.
We were off with Bika storming South uphill on the Horndean road while the pack explored a falsie on the obvious FP alongside the pub. A well chosen and hard to find path East and down, initially through waist high nettles, meant we were all together again as we passed under the Dean Lane rail bridge.
There was a futile excursion North up the track towards Coronation Cottages before a sparse trail was discovered South on Finchdean Road pavement. A long slog here rewarded the FRBs with a sketchily observed fish hook for Bambi, Pocket Rocket, Snake Charmer, Prancer, Dr Blood, Flash and Pancsi.
Immediately thereafter we took the lovely lush path alongside a thriving hedgerow East into the shade of Stanstead Forest. The opportunities for laying complex trails in this neck of the woods are legendary, the Hares made full use of the paths amongst Pine, Beech, Oak, Sweet Chestnut, Hazel and Yew until we reached a Regroup at the carved log bench for a group snap.
Someone noted that we had already been in action for fortyfive minutes and clearly far from The George.
On the go again, and now thankfully North, we emerged from the forest into the meadow below Forestside Farm, the sudden emergence into the bright light and the ease of running on the overgrazed grass caused Vixen to spontaneously erupt into an impression of Julie Andrews singing The Sound of Music, skipping and waiving her arms about etc .... er ... don't call us.
Tough going followed as we continued North climbing up the road through Forestside and then plunging down the other side on the rough rooty flinty trail into Bottom Copse.
All fuel gauges were now on empty and a long long time had passed, thus to avoid the direct ire of the pack the Hares revealed the true trail enabling us to move without delay to the pub, even so it was still a trek West through Woods Copse then North to Adam's Copse before the green green grass of The George car park.
There were only two nominations at the circle, Bambi, apparently for being too active, and Pocket Rocket for fish hook malpractice, the latter receiving the Hash-it with an "am I really enjoying this?" smile.
Much re-hydration followed in the late summer sun.
On – On ! Bambi.