With a pub chosen near Central London, a reliable hare – Naughty Nympho – and a bevy of eager hashers, run no.1464 had all the ingredients for a great nights hashing. What could possibly go wrong? The usual suspects met up in the Carpenter’s Arms in the depths of Edgeware Rd, a short, if somewhat elusive, P trail from Marble Arch tube. The venue appeared ideal, 3 plus real ales to choose from, a secure room for our bags and boots and attractive décor in the form of olde worlde carpenter’s tools from pre-war (the Crimean I think). The GM announced the hash in usual style, welcoming visitors – LipsDick from Oregon, Randall and Scott (both pilots, not a 1970’s crime-fighting duo)and one more who’s name eludes me.. The night was dark, the winds a blowin’ and the threat of rain lay heavy in the skies. But the hashers enthusiasm is not easily dampened and an eager pack strode boldly into the night.
As close as we were to the illustrious delights of Hyde Park, the more experienced hashers of the group (of whom there were many) made several attempts to pre-guess the hare by heading where they thought the run would go, but to no avail, we were looped hither and yon, taken down some dark alleys – not for the first time for some – and positively teased with the expectation of fresh air and countryside, only to have it replaced by some rather poky areas around Paddington/Bayswater Rd. But, finally, our patience was rewarded. After some rather crafty, and completely out of character, short-cutting by Wacca, with KMA being led astray, we were bordering greenery!
With Knickers leading the way now, we ran head-long into the utter blackness of the park, incapable of seeing any flour or chalk of any kind until Bhopal came to our rescue with his head-torch. As everyone was checking, the split-up began in earnest. The trail was eventually located and we On-On’ ed for all of a minute before, disaster, the trail ran into a rail. Indeed, the hare had neglected to check the closing times of certain, somewhat residential, areas and our trail was locked off! But again, showing that never-say-die spirit so prevalent at WLH, Stay Over immediately announced ‘Live trail!’ and sprinted off into the darkness. And what a fortuitous route he took. Within 5 minutes of blindly running the moors of west London, we found ourselves on trail again, what luck!
So, with a dash past the Serpentine followed by a long on-in down Park Lane, we finally circled in on our point of origin – the Carpenter’s Arms. No drink stop, one false trail, not too many check points and some fine, albeit dark, scenery, all in all a good trail was the general consensus. Now, to the beer.
It is here our light-hearted tale of jolly hashers, running, drinking and making merry takes a woeful turn down some dark alleys (again). Beer One – never found the name, had one pint, which took 3 mins to settle and was then promptly told it had run out. Oh dear. Beer Two – served to Stay Over and distinctly tasting of soap, was also pulled. Oh deary dear. Beer Three – Shipyard was it’s name, looked lovely, pulled two pints and was told by the increasingly grumpy bar staff -”’s’all gone mate”. Which left us with a stout – something Knight – was dark, bittery and not at all a quaffable ale, but we soldiered on. Our patience was eventually rewarded when the Shipyard was put back on a little later. But the on-down beer was the stout. Oh well.
Wacca nobly accepted the duties of RA and presided over a boisterous crowd. The Hare received no less than three down-downs, of a fruit-based beverage no less (is coconut a fruit? turns out, it is); our visitors were applauded and abused –with one attempt made to name Randall, our US pilot, as Cockpit, no Joystick I believe, though I’m unsure if any result was arrived at. Fickle Fart was rewarded for the longest journey from Birmingham to London by public transport – nearly 4hrs apparently; Next Week for excessively keen exercising and All Fours was roundly applauded for achieving her 50th WL hash and received the priceless tankard in recognition of time served.
Social drinking ensued for many afterwards. Eric, it was said, had slunk off to the nearby Wetherspoons, only to return to us later in the evening. Drinking continued, much hilarity was had by all and eventually, when time and alcohol had taken their toll, we called it a night and headed home.
On On! KMA
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