Date: Thursday 10th October 2013
Pub: The Bridge Inn, Stanford Bridge
Beers: HPA, Otter Bright, Three Tuns, Hobson’s Mild, Hobson’s Twisted Spire, Robinsons cider, Stowford Press cider
Food: meat / veggie chillli & rice
Hares: Hash Quack & Get Down Shep
Trail: a lovely trail this evening for Saint’s memorial hash. An excellent turn out too, despite the drop in temperature and it was good to see so many of us wearing stripes in his memory. The rain did threaten briefly on the ride out to Stanford Bridge but thankfully held off. There was, of course, the usual chaos on the car park at the start, plus the obligatory latecomer...
A 4-miler from Hash Quack? Surely not! The mention of only 2 HHs caused a few sighs so we added our own anyway. Doggy Fashion was telling us about last week’s decree of a minimum of Haribo at a HH. We didn’t think we’d get anything this evening but how wrong could we be? A beautiful location at the top of the hill next to the church and we were treated to Hash Quack’s antique washing basket full of goodies! Legover appeared out of nowhere to “help” and promptly spilled the contents all over the floor, causing a few breakages along the way. Then, armed with beers, squash and sweets, Cross Dresser led the toast to our gone but never forgotten friend.
Who’s the Daddy thought he heard Shag say he was going to visit his mother’s drain, whilst Legover was quizzed over yet another late appearance. Cross Dresser was intent on feeling sexually harassed, whilst Get Down Shep was feeling the pain and had to duck out early. What could possibly go wrong, Hash Quack’s a true professional isn’t she?
Lots of off road, plenty of hills, plenty of obstacles in the forms of fallen tree trunks and low-slung branches (not that they affect all of us) and plenty of stinging nettles still. A muddy downhill put the Amateur on his behind, whilst Shag and Demon Dog were trying to mislead us down the wrong path.
Game Bird found herself tangled up in barbed wire, we found more crosses than flour, we were on-back more than we were on-on and then Hash Quack lost the trail herself! We were led down through the woods, almost got decapitated by low branches whipping back in our faces, only to be led back again, the disturbed pheasants sounding more like a herd of manic horses than flapping birds. The howling dogs added to the atmosphere of chaos we seemed to be causing, then we heard Hash Quack’s squeals of delight, as she’d found her own trail!
I managed to somehow join Copulation, Clodhopper and Lassie, the usual FRBs, but was too easily corrupted by Cross Dresser and had Lassie mooning and the rest of us howling. Torchy the Battery Boy had been spotted trying to up-end Who’s the Daddy as he squatted with shoelace trouble. Early Riser and Cross Dresser were also feeling a bit frisky and retorted to Torchy’s antics with some tipping of their own.
Back out on the road, the masses spotted a check at a stile, raced off down the field but couldn’t decipher the marking on the cowpat. We were sure it would be this way but Hash Quack knew we’d think that too. A kind passer by in her 4X4 asked if we were lost? Ha! Us? Not lost, just a little fooled by Hash Quack’s cunning plan to take us along the road. All in all, a great run, the longest on-inn in history (or were Lady Penelope & I so deep in conversation that we did the very opposite of short-cutting?) and some very fine food back at the on-inn.
Down downs: awarded by Doggy Fashion to Hash Quack and Get Down Shep for their worst hash with no styles or footpaths, only to be redeemed by proper refreshments; Legover for making a hash of the one job he was given to do; Cleopatra for leaving her back door open; Who’s the Daddy for his cruelty to children; Early Riser and Cross Dresser for their bullying and finally to Penelope Pitstop for getting her puppy out back at the on inn.
Hot Lips x
Next week: Ketch Inn, Worcester, WR5 3HW