Run 880 - Steventon
Run: 880
Date: Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Venue: North Star, Steventon
Hare(s): Rubber Sole, B-Cider, Preperation H
Hounds: Golden Shower, Plod, Twitcher, Big Stiffy, Eric, Pressganger, Billy Whiz, Lonely, Bootsy, Caboose, Silent, S/Shoveller, Penelope Pitstop, Lemony Snicket, Buzz, Laurence, Hutch, Rear Admiral, K9-1 Meg, K9-2 Hattie.
Scribe: Plod
Not the best of nights for running. Sun, oppressive heat, and most of us drained by the previous few days of the heat wave. But a good turn out meant that an effort had to be made.
The briefing seemed a long one but most only heard the closing statement: 'No chips tonight'. They did add that the licensee had stocked up on crisps - hardly a consolation, after the feasts we've had lately. a wish was expressed that because of the stiffling heat, that the distance wouuldn't be too excessive and we were assured that as Lemony Snicket hadn't been involved, then that would definately not be the case. I'm sure I don't know what they meant, Lemony. Anyway, the On was southwards, towards and straight over the Railway Crossing. 'But we normally go that way' was heard as everyone seemed ready to take the path alongside the railway line. But, then that's what hashing's all about. As it was, we did run in parallal with that path - just a bit further out. We did a southern loop which brought us back to the Abingdon road by the Railway Bridge. we crossed the bridge and again everyone wanted off down to the railway line. Not so. Over the bridge and then back on ourselves. past some rather startled and dubious characters, tinkering under the bonet of a quad bike. We looped round and eventually recrossing the abingdon road at the other end of the village. And at this point, those of us towards the rear of the pack heard mutterings of discontent from the Hares who tried to call us back and follow the Trail. When we pointed out that we were following the 'marked' trail, we got: 'But that's the wrong way'. True enough, we did seem to be off flower - except that the arrows were there and they were heading for home - so we continued following the arrows. Mutter. Mutter. Mutter. And then we were on the Causeway, back on flour and at the On In. Distance? 3 miles. well done, girls.
And, then . . . as if one disappointment wasn't enough, as we gathered around Golden Shower's car, for the cake . . . there was none. There was some lame excuse about Treacle Tart being in the middle of selling up, but the reality was no chips and no cake. Long faces! More then 1.
As we tried to replace all the fluid lost on the trail, the subject of the Hash BBQ came up. There's only one venue on offer at the mo, and that's Twitcher's pad. So if that's too far, let's have another offer. I could offer TVP HQ at Kidlington, but while closer then Twitcher's pad, it's still further north then most would be prepared to travel.
We had a naming tonight. Young Laurence, Hash Hoody's mate. It had been noticed that invariably, at the checks, they would both be seen sitting on the gate, or the fence, whatever, and he would be chewing on some straw. A number of alternatives were put forward, a vote was taken, and so Laurence is no more - instead Village Idiot is the latest addition to Didcot's ranks. He seemed disappointed - if he doesn't turn up next week, maybe we'll have to have a rare re-naming . . .
Talking of next week, we're at the Red Lion at Brightwell cum Sotwell, and Twitcher's the Hare. See you all there.
Plod