All plans to have a post hash al fresco feast were crumpled up and thrown in the bin as we gathered for the run. By coincidence as we were arriving, a group of runners with a running problem (Chi runners and AC) were departing after having had their fix of ice skating/running, and looking happy without the consumption of alcohol, hard to believe, I know.

We sheltered like a group of penguins, without those eggs between our legs obviously, under the porch of the village hall, a small group of sodden Santas, a tinsel toting dog, and Splasher incongruously still wearing mid summer garb, hard as nails.

To add interest and involvement, we might find a playing card near some falsies, a prize for a card was promised. With that inducement we set out and busily checked all the trails near the start without luck, ending up on a true trail North West, across the A285 and then North towards Home Farm.

Running in the rain with the wind at your back doesn't feel too bad, just like someone put a cold shower under your collar and not in your face, and lets you concentrate on finding the small yellow clumps that used to be fresh white flour.

Then we reached a fish hook that caught Snake Charmer, Bambi, The Ref, Red Sonia and Icky Sticky Sauna.

At the cross roads before Home Farm, Bambi chose the true trail East to Little Halnaker and did not get a chance to find a card, very annoying, then turning South on Park Lane the same thing again, double annoying. Oh, yes we stopped for a regroup and say "Cheese" moment here, Bambi has to be quick with his equipment here, whip it out for a quick flash and then stick it back under the raincoat before it gets wet.

The long slog down Park Lane to Halnaker was broken by spells of ice skating, cleaning the mist off foggy spectacles and another fish hook that caught Snake Charmer, Red Sonia, Popeye, Old Faithful and Bambi.

At the crossroads the chariots were a mere wombat's throw away, and a tempting prospect, however the hares had other ideas, and now with the shower in our right ears, we headed East into the Tinwood vineyards and then around the edge of Boxgrove Common on Tinwood Lane.

It's at this point that Sausage Lottery, Blind Ness and Substandard ran past a falsie that had already been pilfered for points by Old Faithful, they continued East past Oakwood House before the lack of any yellow lumps of dough caused concern.

By now the pack was homeward bound to the West with the shower in the left ears, particularly awkward for Old Faithful, " I have picked up a Queen, is that good?" he says, "Well that depends" Bambi says, "What? Pardon" he says.

Some rather odd trail marks, an On-In and Hare arrow left us marooned in the ruins of the priory, built in 1107 by three guys out of their minds on Bénédictine liqueur apparently. We got fed up running round the walls waiting for them to collapse, no Kinky's horn you see, and then headed over to the porch of the village hall, to discover that three hashers were missing.

In these days of modern technology, it was not long before Dr Blood was showing Bambi where Sausage was, a little blip over there he pointed, and a search party was sent out, well, just Pink Flamingo actually.

While waiting for the blip to find it's way On-In, an ad hoc committee decided to forgo any circling and rush off to the Old Stables, where eventually we were all united once again.

Here there was much rejoicing in the warmth, and thankful that no one had managed to fall despite countless near moments living on the edge with little hope of an ambulance should one come to grief.

The Hash-It was not dished out once again, this is getting a scandal, Bambi is going to write to his MP, she is the secretary of state for education and probably quite strict.

And so, we wiled away the time, discussing other serious current issues until we remembered that The World Cup final was on the horizon.