This trail evoked a double first in run write ups, it inspired the first ever run write up in verse, appropriately by Shakesbeer and a second run write up from Kenny. Perhaps this makes up for Pope’s run the previous week that failed to inspire even a single write up!
First the words of the immortal Bard:-
Thus appointed, I know that I can well
tell the tale of a hash set in Hanwell,
In the wilds of Zone Four
where the transport’s a bore,
thus requiring all hashers to plan well.
So with Rambo performing as hare,
we were told: “Bring dry socks and shoes (spare),
a strong torch, and a bit
of a First Aid Field Kit.”
(That’s for Pope, just in case of a scare.)
From the Viaduct did the pack dash
with an “On On” their torches did flash.
But a gloomy canal
was the threatening locale
where The Optimist almost went SPLASH!
Through the shiggy, the mud and the dark,
past some barbed wire and then through a park,
in a golf course, o’er ridges,
and somewhere near Three Bridges,
we all ran, vainly seeking a mark.
At each check from the front of the pack
the hounds ran, seeking forth in the black.
But the hare – tricky bloke –
was just having a joke.
Every damned time we had to turn back!
And then each of the pack had to choose
’cause the hare clearly planned to abuse.
Jump the stream, or get wet?
An amusing vignette…
It’s no wonder we needed dry shoes.
‘Neath the viaduct built by Brunel
(Though in darkness who really could tell?)
came the cry of “On Inn!”
and each hasher did grin
for the end of that cold, muddy Hell.
Then came Circle with singing and jeers
and the swift distribution of beers.
First our dear Rambo drank
so the pack could says thanks
for the hashiest trail set in years.
Also Kenny was chosen and cursed
and soon drank, having worked up a thirst.
FRB at the end,
she just could not defend
her rash boast of: “I’ve never been first!”
Also Shakesbeer (though memory’s hazy)
and then Stayover’s hat, which looked crazy,
then came Tablewhine, Ryde,
and The Optimist’s slide,
and Yam Gurning got one ’cause he’s lazy.
The way home caused a near self-destruct.
Every train from that station was fukd.
Though the trail did not lack,
please let’s NEVER go back,
‘Cause the trip home from Hanwell just SUCKED.
That’s the tale of the huffing and puffing,
and the Circle of bullshit and bluffing,
Now your scribe is set free,
though I think you’ll agree
that they don’t call her Shakesbeer for nothing.
Now, Kenny’s Prose
It was on a dark, dark night on a dark, dark river, canal, football
pitch, dogging spot, park, alley, street and golf course that, Rambo
laid a terriffic off-road route through a surprisingly rural Hanwell.
It was shiggy to the left, shiggy to the right. Shiggy all over
Optimist when he fell in the brambles and then again in the stream
(not quite the wet bush he was hoping for)! Mad Cow also enjoyed the
terrain and was spotted taking to all fours.
Tablewhine and Ryde were reunited with some long lost (before Xmas)
property – a merkin and associated head gear, whilst Stayover
was also reunited with his “Slapper on Tour” hat.
If the Canadian, Shakesbeer is anything to go by our economy is going
nowhere fast as it took her 49 hrs to get from Canada to Heathrow.
May the hash grow in strength from now and forever, Amen.