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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1991: RUN NO.402 Run Date: 21 July 1991 St Trinians And An Agitated Goat A characteristically dry night for the annual mid-summer Mothecombe run. Limpalong kindly made way for road hogs on the way to the car park; he's a most unusual Drake H3 hasher - sensible! The regulars' cars started drifting in, plus one or two not so regular, particularly TTK with George, dogs etc. all looking disgustingly healthy, bright eyes, shiny coats and wagging tails. From the sublime to........ IAT returned from holiday, tanned and trying to persuade Cream Soda to go on holiday with him next year. Jeffrey Archer should get a good one out of this. Mimi came into the field at speed and attempted to turn AMRII over; Gary sat in the passenger seat with a frozen grin - he's got guts that bloke. The hares turned up late, Wimpers with a sweat on, which seemed ominous. Why the delay starting? Two minibuses arrived: Oh God no, it's St Trinians! Olive Oil blanched, Limpalong (Hash Cash) smiled maliciously and got their money, which ensured we'll get a Christmas party this year. The start of the run was out through the same field as last year, but no tents for Deadly to run through! We encountered a check after 200 yards. First little bleeder to teacher(?) in whining voice "I thought we were going to the beach. How long's this going to last, and why aren't the checks measured in metres". Slo Jo' directed the numerous, non checking slow runners on the trail into the wood. Shortly followed by another check, where I caught HT2 up to her usual tricks. No, not that one, she did that before she started - I leave you to ponder what this was. Along the valley bottom we got a bit spread out, both length and breadth. But another Wimpers special check brought everyone back together again, for a quick spin round Slo-Jo ' s Des Res . The sawdust led us up the track towards the farm, where we were halted by a stony faced individual who wasn't entering into the spirit of things and told us we were trespassing. His ample wife was guarding the other track, 100 yards away, having quiet hysterics asking did nobody speak English?, as an unHashlike silence had descended. Things threatened to take a nasty turn when the goat began to get excited. The Hare turned up to smooth things over, tricky this, not helped when Mackintosh Read suggested to ample wife she removed her top and come and join us. However, knowing him it could have been far worse. It was up onto the road at the next check. Deadly encountered another resident who told him in basic Angio Saxon that he was where he shouldn't be. Deadly has spent most of his life there though! A bit of flagellation next, along the side of the barley field, into a part of the estate we hadn't been before with various Simpsons, Bart, Schweppes soon checking in the wood. Now this was a tricky wood with more checkbacks than you could shake a stick at. I did a brilliant short cut at the next check, and could hear the Hash running parallel with me as we approached the river. At the river Not Norman smiled and tightened his laces which brought tears to his eyes. Straight over we went - well most of us. St Trinians couldn't believe it. Yacky tried to break an inoffensive rock with her head. Yokelbonker was most solicitous. On the far side Olive Oyl, Schweppes and Ferret found the checkback up the hill - Olive Oyl falls for it every time. Along the river bank Minder lost his human (?) and seemed quite chuffed. Everyone went back over the river except Hubcaps, Sarah, Popeye (back from the dead) and Jane who seemed to be out for an evening stroll. Now it was here that I realised several notables had been missing for a while, chief amongst whom where were the Old Queen and Cream Soda. If I was cruel I would put it down to being in the over 50's club, but its not that, they're just dyed in the crutch SCBs! The trail went on and off the beach, finally went off the beach, but Endo and I stayed on the beach, and headed for home with part of the St Trinians contingent. Advancing years, and no barbecue gear saw a clique of eight skulking in the Dartmoor Union Inn, so what went on, or came off at the beach barbecue I know not, but it was a great run. At the DU we had a quick PU. Deadly raved over the Turkey Pie, Endo had a big brown one. Cream Soda didn't care for the chilli. P.S. It was Endos birthday Thursday so do the decent thing and buy him a pint tonight!
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