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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1990: RUN NO.355 Run Date: 3 September 1990 A Surprising, Well Blobbed Run Just over fifty years ago, Winston Churchill was declaring over our wireless sets (well, at least on Deadly's set). "I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of the Christian civilisation". Funnily enough, when I heard this again recently, it reminded me of some previous runs by IAT, and especially the 'Bedford Bridge Affair'. Survival is paramount when preparing oneself for his hashes: On this occasion, I checked the Meteorological Office for wind direction, possible fog and anything else I could think of, including snow, and decided the risk factor was probably variable. I am reminded of at least six previous occasions when IAT has :- 1. Tripped me up in order to pass me, so that I cracked my sternum on a tree trunk. 2. Used me as a bridge to cross a river. 3. Made me hopelessly lost on a foggy, moonlit run three winters ago when following him because of mistaking his Kermit the Frog winter-wear for a moving swamp. 4. Subjected me to join a Search Party on the Kitley Estate in the snow in an attempt to recover his brain. 5. Puzzled me by leaving wheelmarks instead of blobs of sawdust on a run, until I discovered he had laid the run using a wheelbarrow to carry the sawdust in order to save time. 6. Caused me to witness his probable demise down a mineshaft, when he was saved only by a string of barbed wire. I was, therefore, delighted when the MASH Hash plus ten others (forty in all) set off from Cherrybrook Bridge on what can only be described as a surprising, well blobbed run. As an elite short-cutter, the entirity of a run is always an unknown quantity to me. I am reliably informed that it went into Bellever Forest on the slopes of Lakehead Hill. I recall that it was whilst short-cutting through the brashings with Wendy, I felt the strong call of nature. Mimi, in his ever present roll of Guardian Angel (at least, I think it was him who had wings last week) to the Slow Elite was skirting the edge of the forest calling, in a mating-call type of voice to Wendy (or has he recently taken out a life insurance policy of mega bucks on her life?). Whilst my call of nature was being fulfilled, I whispered to Wendy "Distract Mimi for a couple of minutes, will you?" What did she do? Yelled "YOO HOO, MIMI! Don't come over here!!" and WAVED BOTH HANDS AT HIM!! By which time he was about six inches from my feet, like a bull charging a red cape from a matador.Thank you, Wendy. We then went across the road up to Arch Tor, down to Powder Mills in a figure of eight around Powder Mills Farm, back to Powder Mills where Dumbo and I had decided to put the world to rights while waiting for the Elite, and back via a bog that claimed not only Angie Hotfingers but a couple of others. I hate to admit it, but I nearly enjoyed the run. God, I feel thick! The on-down appeared to be at the East Dart Hotel in order to avoid a confrontation with Tamar Valley H3. Speedy food was provided, but little in the way of gossip. Deadly was in obvious pain from his achilles as I managed to pinch at least six of his chips before being pinned to the table with his fork. I was about to enjoy my own food when I was suddenly aware of a low level, impromptu Committee Meeting in the shape of Mimi and someone else kneeling at my feet. Had he come to check my undies, I thought. No, it was to ask if I wanted to buy a black vest with writing on it - unfortunately, he didn't say what writing. He tried hard to convince me that by having a black vest I would show up more easily on dark runs now that the winter is approaching! He then mumbled something about being poised at his telephone for the next two days awaiting my call. Did he ask everyone, or is he trying a fashionable coup to rid himself of the Grand Mistress (moi) in order to streamline the Hash? Luckily, his food arrived and as Deadly was moving rather closely to his chips, he then retreated. Hotfingers, on a fashion note, was sporting a very smart outfit, but was usurped by a toyboy hasher in a very fetching multi coloured job. My attention was then drawn to Bart. He held a pint of beer at shoulder height in his right hand, and proceeded to dangle the fingers of his left hand in it. "What on earth is he doing?" I asked his friend of two weeks'. "That's his bird chatting-up line" he sighed. "They all ask him "What are you doing?". Well, in giving it ten out of ten for originality and nought out of ten for hygiene, I have to say it was entirely successful, judging by the response from Wendy, HT2, Dumbo, Friend of Dumbo, even Digger, Rudolph, Endosperm, IAT, Limpalong, Mates, Rover, Wimpers, Snakehips, Yesman, Ducky, Paul, Denim, Stitch, Mike, Anne, TT2, Neil F, Basic Simpson, Diesel Simpson, 16v Simpson & Turbo Simpson, Linda, Rod & Charlotte not forgetting Minder. Deadly was attempting to solicit Yokelbonker's medical expertise and Mike B. was heavily engaged in food. Son of IAT (SIAT) looks as if he could audition successfully as Oliver Twist. I wondered, in a lucid moment, which is becoming more lucid, if in fact it was a SIAT run and that IAT only pitched up as token support. In fact, the more I think about it, I am now convinced the run was laid by him, hence the high quality. What a splendid fellow Limpalong is, and how fortunate for all of us that the local Council has ground to a halt now that no-one is paying their poll tax. It means he can play with all their redundant computers and while away the odd month by producing such wonderfully explicit charts, although I'm not sure I really want to know 'Who Did What With Whom And Where And When'. And WHY, Limpalong, were my bike hashes not counted? And WHAT was everyone doing on the 18th June, Run 344 at Shipley Bridge when we only had twenty four runners? I must look in my filofax..........
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