The Running Horse, Bewdley

# 243

Date: Thursday 28^th February 2013

Pub: The Running Horse, Bewdley

Food: posh grub off the menu

Beers: Guinness… & some others… (Crossdresser usually helps me out with this bit, sorry)

Hares: Hash Quack and Get Down Shep

Virgins: none

Visitors: Captain Kremmen, Sybil and Comes Occasionally

Trail: a bit thin on the ground at the start this evening but then; Hash Quack has a bit of a reputation doesn’t she?  But whilst we were all mentally preparing ourselves for tonight’s marathon, a few more arrived (maybe they were late in the hope that we’d have left without them… we know how she likes to keep to time).  Wrong finally called time, we were given the “safety and sanity” pep talk and we were off. 

A wonderfully twisty turny trail, delicately laid in dainty spots of flour, looping down the side of the bypass, spinning in circles through the countryside, causing some chaos & confusion but I loved it (I seemed to have been the only person listening to the rules tho).  3 very swift HHs; I managed to get one sweet at the first as there was a sentimental pause for remembrance, nothing at the subsequent stops (Roberto, where for art thou?).  

Down & cleverly underneath the bypass, with the realisation that the only way is up.  An impromptu HH at the top of a very steep hill causing lots of delight, Demon Dog still seems to cause a few scowls, Torchy and Russell Sprout were on their best behaviour this evening (for once) although Russell Sprout barely came up for air, he was so chatty!  My kneepads weren’t needed tonight but Hash Quack could have done with a pair of boxing gloves.

Down downs: Hash Quack for her wonderful, spiralling hash (a lucky escape with a short run for most with the hash weekend looming, although there were a few hills…); our 3 visitors: Captain Kremmen, Sybil and Comes Occasionally (who also falls occasionally); other fallers: Sponge Bob who had root trouble and Amateur who was nearly caught in a man trap but lived to tell the tale (prancing in his pants in the car park as he did so); Who’s the Daddy got his sport confused tonight and cycled to Cleobury but then was surprised by the hills; and finally to Russell Sprout for his excellent sprinting, was he gas-powered tonight?  He’s not called Russell Sprout for nothing y’know!

Hot Lips x

Next week: The Peardiswell, Worcester