“These taste like shit,” was heard from several of the hashers gathered around the walls of the Old Vicarage in Adderbury. The residents of this stately abode were safely locked behind a gate and could probably not make out the resemblance the offending foodstuff indeed had to poo, but we were assured by the chef that these were “vegetarian sausages.”
No complaints were heard regarding quality or quantity of the “non-vegetarian sausages” and those of us that stuck to these as god intended (“And thou shalt have dominion over the chorizo as you do the kielbasa, lo, and over all forms of spiced and minced meats” — Book of Wurst 4:15). “These aren’t nearly as bad as the sausages in Chiang Mai,” we were informed by our visitor from the far east, Sperm Sailor. But, your humble reporter was handed this photograph taken near the On Inn of a possible production line for these commestibles:
The run, itself, was quite lovely but the large number of pubs in Adderbury were all passed within the first 5 minutes of trail and, though we drew within sight of Banbury the opportunities to stop at a drinking establishment other than the official venue were well past us. This was not a problem at all as the Bell Inn had a variety of Hook Nortons and a guest on tap, the regulars were a friendly lot, and we were able to keep Gadget away from all of them by asking him his opinion on, well, it doesn’t matter, does it…we just said, “so Gadget, what do you think about…?” and then waited until he ran out of breath.
{Next week, I should recuse myself of the scribe duties, but since I already know the trail I can probably have it written three or four days in advance. If anyone else wants to take over for a week, I can email you the photoshoppable photo of Dippy. Alternatively, if anyone else would like to pose for a picture or two (still kicking myself for missing the one of GeeGee with a sausage in her mouth and mustard on her chin), then that can be arranged.}
