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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1988: RUN NO.263 Run Date: 5 December 1988 Minder Escapes From Jail And Goes On The Run It is not hard to imagine the scene. It's cold, it's wet, it's Monday night at 7.30. God knows why we do it? Anyway, a dozen or so hardy hashers gathered for the delights of New Waste. Included in our midst was Horse Trough, not Mark Two but the original. Who's that I hear you cry? Don't worry, just some ignorant sod in a flashy B.M.W. who turns up occasionally and causes chaos, then disappears for months on end pretending he's got some incurable injury. Also making a return was that famous vanishing act of Mimi and Minder. First it was Mimi's turn to get lost on his own run, then last week it was Minder's turn to go A.W.O.L.. As the story goes, our intrepid Doberman got himself well and truly stuffed and spent the night under a Landrover. The following morning the owner, taking pity on the brute gave him a lift to the local cop shop (what a silly bugger....would you honestly give a lift to a Doberman?). Anyway, Minder's not stupid, when they tried to put him in the cells he cried the place down forcing a kindly W.P.C. to take him upstairs for a nice cup of tea. After pawprinting and photographing he was released on bail. I digress, back to 7.30 and after a few mumblings we were soon off on to Pound Plantation. After some minor detours we were soon over the wall into Grange Plantation. Deadly was heard to enquire "How far can we go into these woods?". Quick as a flash came back the answer .."To the middle, after that you'll be going out". And sure enough we emerged, and the hidden sawdust carried us back on to Pound Plantation. On to? Well perhaps 'into' would be a better word for it as this has to be one of shiggiest areas around. Sod the calling, lets get out of here, women and children first! On On to the check by the gate. Here we glimpsed our gentler hashers who had missed the previous shig due to the late arrival of one of their number. Whilst the more serious of us went out to check, our resident comedian came up with such classics as: "What's the fastest string in the world?...CONCORDE", and 'What goes whistling up the isle at a wedding?....the bride's train". (Yawnnnnn!) Anyway folks, On On was eventually found and soon we were all galloping off into the night up in the general direction of Stalldown Barrow. As sure as eggs is Edwina's Curried eggs, the trail had to come back down - so down it came. Here things start to get a bit hazy as being one of the trail blazers I went a bit to quick and buggered off to the pub! I am assured by those in the know that the rest of the trail was up to the usual high standard which we have all 'got used to'. (Even though Popeye and Olive Oyl had crossed words. Evidently on three seperate occasions, whilst laying the trail, they could not agree on where to spread the two carrier bags full of sawdust. Finally to prove just who really wears the trousers Les orders Debbs back to the car whilst he battles through the wind and the rain to finish laying the trail!). Eventually, everybody made it back to the Mountain Inn, including Wooden Leggs who fancied having a quick one at the Cornwood Inn. Soon we were relaxing by the fire. Influenza was the topic on everyones' lips (and noses, as it seems the whole hash has had it). Maybe that's why Her Majesty's (not so) civil servants, Ferret and H.T.2, have stayed away. Rumour has it they have both been seen with Plympton H3 recently!
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