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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1989: RUN NO.273 Run Date: 13 February 1989 Who'd Have Thought It Would Be Milton Combe Again? This was yet another Milton Combe run with the hares Mimi and IAT? (brains supplied by Minder the Wonderhound). As we know an uneasy alliance exists between all three of them but principally between IAT? and Minder who frequently fall out over who should sit in the middle seat of the car, or even whether IAT? should sit in the back. Fellow hares who lay trails with IAT? can usually be seen afterwards in a corner of the pub muttering darkly. My experience with him is that you just have to be firm with him and he's as good as gold (none of that wheel barrow nonsense for instance). However, on this occasion they quickly fell out over the sawdust blobs with Mimi preferring the carefully formed pile with the hand three inches from the ground at the moment of release, the left leg bent at the correct angle of one hundred and fifteen degrees and the head in the alert position. Whilst IAT? goes for the more artistic and carefree approach with the sawdust spread casually like a mad woman's - well we won't go into that. Suffice to say that Mimi felt obliged to act as sweeper behind him. And then there was 'THE LADDER'. After the difficult weeks the Farting Ferret has had lately, culminating in the emotional scenes the week before when his torch packed up after one hundred yards, he produced a large and bright shiney new one and was flashing it at any one who would look. At least now when he gets lost he can see where he is is lost. Sue ('Ever Ready'), Rebecca's friend, has quickly adopted Hash habits and arrived with flat batteries. I offered her mine but it was too big to fit, but at least I tried. Just as well because after half an hour it drooped and I had to use my back up. We were at a distinct disadvantage compared to last week in that Not Norman was running with us from the the beginning - he kept on muttering "I'm not running up the river again. I'm not running up the river again". Last time we were here we ran up the footpath by the pub, into the field and along the road then back down the steep path. The front runners didn't believe they'd have to do it again so the checks were effective and we ended up back in the village all together (a sort of 'warmer into the bank'). The trail took us back through the grounds of the village hall and the Church and off up the footpath to Bickham. IAT? had a little local difficulty, in his usual tactful way,with one of the residents at this point.The checks were working well but a few of us took advantage of a short cut on the track off to the left which led us back down to the bottom again to a check where we arrived first - this allowed us to take a long check back up a steep field, led by Olive Oyl, through a stream, brambles and a fence. By the time we got back everyone else had gone off down the valley. Not Norman was to be heard complaining vigorously that it was a dry run because it didn't come up to his knees. 'Ever Ready' was running well and was already cut and bleeding and well muddied and enjoying life - poor girl she's got to meet Horse Trough yet. Across the stream we went and back up the hill. By the time I got to the top field the main action seemed to be over - the pack having gone round the edge of the field and herded up the horses. Whilst Al, making an infrequent appearence, suddenly found several very large horses giving him undue attention. Keeping his head, he dived headlong over a gate suffering only a few cuts and bruises. I found out this in the pub afterwards, when our paths crossed in the field he seemed to be muttering rather a lot about horses. But that's the nature of the Hash, when you find one of the front runners near the back of the pack he's usually muttering about something, e.g. Horse Trough, torches, sawdust, b----- hares, The Schleswig Holstein Question, Horse Trough, Deadly, etc. Al's doing the Paris Marathon later this year and if he stops hashing he should be OK. IAT? was guiding us back markers down into the next valley where a double back put me at the front of the pack - which did not go unremarked. Fortunately I'm thick skinned. Down below us was a stream so there was only one way to go. In trying to avoid running up it I banged my head twice on some trees. I'm really going to be glad when I stop Hashing. From there it was into a field with only the hare, Mimi, able to find the way. We passed a closely packed herd of sheep which John informed us were checking that no one was wearing Wellington boots. Over yet another gate, stile or hedge (this run established some sort of record) and arriving at the road junction by Buckland Abbey. Deerhunter, seeing a signpost for Milton Combe, took off with a Short Cutter's eye for the main chance. The bloodied but unbowed rest of us had 'THE LADDER' to contend with. THE LADDER had been another point of contention between the hares - Mimi was outvoted by Minder and IAT? Any other way of getting up that bank would have been very difficult. Not Norman's suggestion for assisting Hicks was not carried out - it would have been painful for Hicks and would have required an immediate finger sterilisation. IAT? was the last one up and to make it more difficult for Mimi to collect he pulled it up afterwards. I'm alright Jack! Somewhere on the run Dumbo was heard to say she couldn't find the knob but hurriedly explained she was talking about her torch. I've noticed Chris always looks very tired after a run and they do have a habit of returning late, so perhaps it was a slip of the tongue.We headed across the field to the fence crossing with a horse trough either side, but fortunately these were not of the Medlock variety, then back towards Buckland Abbey. Taking the footpath through the grounds the pack was still well together as were yet more gates. From there it was out to the road and back down the hill to the pub for the end of an excellent hash.
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