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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1988: RUN NO.259 Run Date: 7 November 1988 Thanks For The Wembury 7.25pm at Wembury car park and twenty one eager, panting Hashers full of vim and vigour awaited the onset/onslaught (delete that not applicable) of a Yesman/Rover special. However, as we arrived we had to take the salute at a parade of non-hash vehicles and inhabitants as they left, with some emulating Steve McQueen and others Reginald Molehusband (who?). It really was such a shame they all departed so quickly - I was sure we'd catch someone having their suspension checked out. Still the assembled company can now be remembered as Drake H3 The Nookie Nobblers!. On On! was the cry and Yesman led the pack up over the hill while Rover lurked suspiciously at the bottom (strange how he's acquired this aversion to inclines since the Karrimor Mountain Marathon!).The trail headed along the South West Coastal Footpath and the hare succeeded in wrong footing Les, Deadly, Endo and Sheila at the first check. They all thundered on towards Newton Ferrers, everyone hoping that Deadly would act the lemming (or should it be lemon?) at Season Point but, alas, the bulb in his head lit up and he about turned. As for Endo and Sheila ........?? They were next seen in the 'Odd Wheel' - and the Jock in me wants so say "Wheel, that's odd". Something strange happened to Les who was also caught out. He missed everyone turning back and was reputedly observed running up and down the slope from the car park - perhaps he was trying to escape! The Keenies gradually sorted it all out and cascaded down Church Road to rendezvous with a numb Rover (comments not required nor welcome!). The check at this point seemed to be causing a few problems - maybe the permutations from five possible routes was just too much for ordinary mortals - so the pack was sent along the path to Ford. I think it was at this point that the first grumblings of discontent were aired, something about lack of sawdust, I believe. Chief Whinger does not require identifying and to be honest I would have eaten my jock strap if he'd found anything pleasant to say, but if he's nothing (else), he's consistent - bless his Rivington Pikes! Anyway, sawdust was laid in quantity, enough to fill four dustbin liners and I always thought the object was to find the sawdust not have it laid out in a nice, neat, visible straight line. Perhaps in future we sould use long lengths of 'dayglo' tape to ensure the less intrepid amongst us don't stray too far from the straight and narrow! On On, along the well churned horse, cow, I'm Not Norman track to exit on Ford Road and another check. Deadly and F.Ferret did the decent thing and checked out the public footpath towards Knighton (How did they know it passed the 'Odd Wheel Inn?) but once again they were wrong and Woodenlegs sussed the correct trail leading into Church Wood. After much meandering and climbing this track led the pack onto Ford Road where Snakehips, complete with an Arthur Scargill patented you-can't-see-me headlamp, came across Rover sitting in the middle of the road. He considered this a miner irritation! Up the hill to the T junction where a check wrong footed F Ferret, the trail leading to the left down the road peeling off right into the woods. After much checking, cursing and whingeing a procession of lights led out of the Enchanted Forest and onto the run-off down to the coast path. A naughty piece of deceit half way down succeeded in getting the pack to enter a cul-de-sac like sheep into a pen - but then Hashers should be ewesed to subtle subterfuges such as this! On the coastal path a check had been totally erased by someone or something, but, even still, Rover managed to persuade some hashers onto the beach for the long haul to HMS Cambridge. An intricate loop was missed towards the end of the beach so the pack were directed up the field where two checks were quickly overcome to lead all and sundry up a track towards Spring Road. Before this objective was achieved however, a further piece of deceit succeeded in sending the Keenies hurtling up towards HMS Cambridge's gatehouse (would the guards have been amused or amazed?). The trail led us along Spring Road, peeling off right down a farm track to a check, which we correctly negotiated, and then took the rabble down to Yesman, who, pretending to be a doorman, directed us to a stile over which lay a field of bulls. Not many people realised it, so the sedatives must have worked. Dog-end and John would have tripped over them anyway, their eyes having that glazed look one usually associates with cadavers (who said they were dead from the neck up!). Out of the field and a much-decimated pack (the faint of heart being pointed towards the cars) ran back along Ford Road up the (steep) hill and a right turn into Church Road. The Keenies misread a check and headed for home whereas four stalwarts, I'm Not Norman, Deerhunter, Woodenlegs plus Rover, completed the final loop along Brownhill Lane and a multitude of pathways to exit above the church and home. The Odd Wheel Inn and the Ruddles County beer were on form, with a pleasant hour being enjoyed by all. Deadly was unusually mute. Yesman formed a huddle with Cream Soda to discuss the (mis) fortunes of Plymouth Argyle football team and later formed one with I'm Not Norman whence the conversation was of such a nature that whispering and secluded corners was the order of the day. Perhaps they were discussing where Endo and Sheila got to?? Dog-end and John decided they'd better do it together next time. And above it all Slurper's laugh could be heard - being mistaken by some as an audition for the cauldron scene in Macbeth! I wonder what tickles her fancy???
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