Date: Thursday 28th November 2013
Pub: The Button Oak, Button Oak
Beers: Doom Bar, Worthingtons Creamflow, Stowford Press cider, Thatchers Gold cider
Food: off the menu
Hare: Game Bird (with a little help from Bubbles)
Visitors / virgins: none
Trail: The muddiest hash – you have been warned!
Well it was all going on on the car park before we started – Penelope Pitstop had turned up early, Cross Dresser was expressing his female side with his pink footwear, Wrong was well equipped with his snow chains and Shag had to seal Leg Over’s holes with a bit of gaffer tape. And then someone had to wait behind for Cyclopath who was fashionably late…
Food orders were swiftly sorted, there was lots of gesticulation from Game Bird and then the 20 or so hashers and Babooshka set off into the night. A brief sprint out of the car park and down the road before turning right and into the muddy wilderness, never to be seen again… well, for the next hour or so anyway.
The warning of mud was soon experienced as we trudged our way along the tracks, almost losing Hot Lips and Cinderella in the deep, muddy furrows. There wasn’t much flour to find but that didn’t matter as an excitable Game Bird led the way – and that’s why we call her the leader of the pack!
Cyclopath joined us at the first HH, in a clearing on a hill, just in time to share the fine selection of sweets – “eclair anyone?” It wasn’t long before we were off again, Doggy Fashion still chewing on her rationed one sweet. Slip-sliding down yet another muddy path into the woods, everyone somehow managing to stay on their feet… or did they?
Hash Quack was way out ahead, missing hash halts at any given opportunity, Well Laid was daintily treading, trying desperately not to fall whilst Tits or Treats was giggling about her big sister’s baggy trousers. Who’s the Daddy, Lassie and Copulation were checking out the trail again, only to be called back just in time to see Cross Dresser howling at the MOon.
An obligatory shot of the muddiest shoes ever and were off again, Dr Whiplash speeding past everyone, Wrong weighed down by the mud and chains and Game Bird’s call of “éclair anyone?” yet again. Hash Quack led the way to the on inn, where the doctor had a little experiment in store for us…
Down downs: awarded by Doggy Fashion (along with the colossally mammoth thanks to the pub) to Game Bird for her best ever hash; Cross Dresser for his pink socks; Leg Over for surviving the run in his taped up shoes; Wrong for his jock strap snow shoes and to Dr Whiplash for falling (I missed that one!)
The doctor’s experiment: to see who’s the biggest hash drinker – there was no contest really, Hot Lips had downed hers in no time at all, Compost came a close second, leaving Cross Dresser desperately trying to down his without puking! (Someone else for the doghouse tonight?)
Hot Lips x
Next week: The Constitutional Club, Kinver, DY7 6HL