A pleasant trail around Battersea Park and surrounding area set by our hare, No Foreplay. Apparently a good drink stop was provided at the hare’s apartment, but some of the pack (me included) bailed out and short-cutted it back to the pub once we realised that it was going to go way over the advertised 8.5 km mark. (By my reckoning, the total trail would have been >11 km, drink stop included.)
Back in the circle, a few visitors were rewarded with the traditional the traditional down-downs by RA Plug. We also had a naming ceremony for a hitherto unnamed hasher, who was anointed by the RA as “Saint Loo”, after the street where she chose to have a not-so-discrete pee. (It really exists – see map).
Good choice of pub for this trail (particularly as it is just around the corner for me), right next to the Teddington Lock Bridge. Hared by some combination of Contour and Last Tango, the latter taking advantage of an e-bike for extra mobility. A pleasant winding trail around the leafy lanes and housing estates of Ham Common, spoiled only slightly by the fact that the WLH trail overlapped another trail on much the same route apparently laid by the Richmond Stragglers (or whatever). Anyway, it was enough to fool one or two of our less frequent hashers, who ended up mistakenly following these FRBs along the Thames towpath for quite a distance until they realised that they were travelling far too fast to be actual hashers. Which made them late for the excellent drink stop where Tango was serving rhubarb gin and tonic, with views over the lock.
Usual stuff back at the pub, with Butt Plug presiding over the circle, and several visitors receiving down-downs. We also toasted the health of the latest hash couple: Dunny Penny and Rent Boy.
Our hare for the evening was Dingo, who mentioned at the start of the run that it might involve false trails. This turned out to be something of an understatement, with (by my estimate) , no fewer that seven false trails (see map) – some of them not that trivial either. However, it was worth persevering to make it to the European themed drink stop by the banks of the Thames, where we are able to feast on a wide selection of cheeses, meats, pate and French bread, washed down by a generous flagon of red wine. None of which will be available to us post Brexit, of course! Dingo must now be one of the front-runners for WLH drink stop of the year, vying with Mad Cow and Butt Plug for the top spot.
Back in the circle, Whacker performed RA duties with occasional assistance from Pope, with the usual down-downs being awarded to the usual suspects.
Our hare, Rambo, promised that this trail would only be 8km long and would not involve getting our feet wet. There was some scepticism in the pack, based on his haring track record over many years, However, he turned out to be true to his word on this occasion, and provided that one managed to follow the somewhat convoluted trail without getting too lost, it was indeed possible to get around within this distance.
The following track does include a shortcut and is not therefore a totally accurate representation of the hare’s indented trail.
Usual down-downs handed out by RA Butt Plug, after which several hashers chose to head off to one of Southall’s many curry houses for additional sustenance.
In spite of the torrential rain there was a good turnout for Man Magnet’s annual azalea run in Richmond Park. The first drink stop was in the usual spot by the pond at the centre of the Isabella Plantation (see pics elsewhere), where the hare dished out vodka jellies. (Which turned out to be quite potent!)
But that was not the end of goodies for the evening. The trail led us back to Man Magnet’s gaff, where Just Michael was slaving over a hot BBQ to cook hot dogs for the assembled hashers, to be washed down with a Whiskey Mac. Just before arriving at the BBQ stop we came across a rather bloody Kemosabe, who appeared to have gone a few rounds with the pavement and emerged as the loser. (Hopefully he has made a full recovery by now).
Later back the Black Horse, Butt Plug presided as joint RA with the assistance of Sir Humpalot, the latter being held responsible for the shitty weather on the trail. Amongst the usual down-downs, we had a naming ceremony for one of our newer members, who earned the hash name: Bloody Hotlips. (I believe this had something to do with his medial expertise, but not entirely sure about that.)