Oxford Hash House Harriers

May 28, 2010

OH3 #583 The Black Bull, Launton

Filed under: Oxford Hash House Harriers — Tags: , , , , , , , , — Dr Slow Ride @ 11:20 am

We were all baffled by the trail on Wednesday.  It was supposed to be live but it appears that was just a ruse perpetrated by Slow Ride (the hare) so he wouldn’t have to talk to any of the stragglers–quite antisocial.  Worse still, he didn’t even know where the On Inn was, arrogantly assuming that it was at the location stated in his text to the Chef (Bollard) and the Beer Donkey (WhaDeSay?).  Typical American, eh?…I won’t more than mention his complete lack of respect for rights of access or questionable hygiene.

We all should have read the signs of doom better.  It all started out badly as Gee Gee, fresh from the cop shop, wandered into the pub and was immediately mistaken for a stripper.  Perhaps this was fair enough since she went in wearing her uniform and without any cash and came back out in a skimpier outfit, some sparkling new shoes (according to the RA) and enjoying a frosty beverage.

Next came a plague of toads from the sky or, at least, Daglocks and Sperm Sailor flying in on ultralights.  Finally, some Bicester hashers showed up which is always a bad omen–may I remind you that Gadget is one of them.  As storm clouds gathered, we decided to soldier on in the face of certain destruction.

The true trail was sussed by members of the pack and has been published elsewhere (at this link, in fact).  The pack, cleverly, fell for none of the false trails set, as shown in the supplementary map, below…the red lines were laid at 16:30 and the blue lines were the path of the hare starting at 19:00 (intended On Inn and the actual one are also indicated).  In the interim, the hoax was ruined by rabbits who, following on from the evil signs of confusion, wanton behaviour, and plagues from the heavens, pooped on several of the prelaid blobs:

Sorry, no photos of Dippy doing something rude, this week.

May 14, 2010

OH3 #581 Forest Hill

Filed under: Oxford Hash House Harriers — Tags: , , , , — Dr Slow Ride @ 12:37 pm

Forest Hill, a village on a hill with no forest but rather is surrounded by fields and pastures (although there is a wood not too far away) was the scene of the Oxford Hash on the birthday of Ian Dury.  Our own band of Blockheads met at the White Horse for a few bevvies and then out for a wee trot around the countryside.

The trail was laid with treacherous intent as Shagger included a number of backchecks while scrupulously avoiding the worst of the shiggy available.  Some of us made up for the latter problem by diving into thickets on a regular basis and opening manly wounds that we could only hope would endear us to the ladies.  Dippy decided not to count on such war injuries to impress the girls and near the end of the counterclockwise loop he sprinted off.  At first, it was thought that he was trying to turn this into a race that none of the rest of us were fit enough to compete in. But as we caught up to him in the last paddock before the On-Inn, we realised that he was just in a hurry to meet his date:

That ugliness aside, we continued on to Minging Court (a bit misnamed, but the massively wealthy that can afford such places have strange ways beyond the understanding of us peasants).  Here, Bollard had set up a feast suitable for the new Ox/Cam/Public School coalition government, but as we were the only folk in attendance we ate as well as if we belonged in these posh surroundings.  We were treated to a baked salmon, new potatos, prawns with mint, and some steamed asparagus poached from a nearby garden not half an hour before tea.  In deference to our lowly station, this sumptuous feast was served in a manner befitting the rabble as Bollard scooped up the portions in his sweaty hands and plopped it on the plates.  But, no one complained, least of all the neighbour’s dog that wandered over and quickly cleaned all the dishes for next week’s hash.

Back at the pub, Dippy collected sponsorship money ostensibly for a charity event last month, although it was rumoured to be for some psychological treatment…either way, it was worth a tenner.  Those of us that paid up were then treated to a few of Whadesay’s own crisps:

not photoshopped, that really is Whadesay

May 6, 2010

OHHH #580 UK Election Special in Oakley Wood

Filed under: Oxford Hash House Harriers — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — Dr Slow Ride @ 12:47 pm

With the UK general election only one day away the Oxford Hash staged a politically themed trail.  To start, three parties with largely indistinguishable philosophies were supposed to run the show even as it turned out that one of those might as well not even have been there…in point of fact, she wasn’t there: Gee Gee was off on a tropical fact finding junket leaving us at the mercy of co-hares Tinkerbell and Gadget.

As a typical constituent, I was struggling to even get to the start whilst heavily laden like some pack animal. This is no metaphor as I was actually r#nning to the start with a loaded backpack but the trek took on eerily parallel symbolism when compared to the current election: a half dozen red cars each slowed slightly, some swerving toward me as they pulled alongside before hurriedly speeding away. Then when I was just a hundred meters from the hash start having empowered myself to provide myself services that others withheld, a classic blue roadster pulled over and Animal offered me a lift in exchange for directions…”an invitation to join the governance of this vehicle,” as it were.

Soon thereafter we were surrounded by what might pass for the Monster Raving Looney Party convention (Oakley Wood Branch). And not long after that, we were away on the trail.  And, quicker still, we were lost and scattered around the wood. “These bloody foreigners, coming over here and screwing up our trails, they should be sent back,” observed Mouthful, the Other BNP Supporter from Turkey.

And, indeed, this begs an issue of transatlantic politcal interest: it was both the Mexican national holiday Cinco de Mayo (5 of Mayo) and there was a pack member from the not so great state of Arizona where the police have new responsibilities to hassle anyone that appears to be an illegal immigrant.  With our local copper AWOL this left the visiting RA, Shagger to mete out the penalties to visitor Cocktail and to kiwi Mummy’s Boy who might be the right colour but speaks with a funny accent (the author will now take a short break to regain composure).

Having run around aimlessly in the wilderness with little effective leadership we found ourselves right back where we started except now there was food and drink available.  Bollard continued the internationalist political theme by serving enormous plates of pasta; if it was good enough for the Italians as they waded through fifty elections in twenty years then it should be good enough for some Englishmen as they prepare to suffer two or three elections this upcoming year or so.

The last of the down-downs coincided with a vote of “no confidence” from some Community Support Officers that arrived on the scene and dissolved the government for us.  We then gave up the analogies and retired to a pub in Oakley village where the locals were throwing heavy blocks of wood at an effigy of an old woman….

April 15, 2010

OH3 #576 East Hagbourne

Filed under: Oxford Hash House Harriers — Tags: , , , , — Dr Slow Ride @ 12:53 pm

It was a relief to find that the little village of Hagbourne had nothing to do with the likes of Liza Minelli, in spite of the name.    And, even though Finger Flasher was spotted “bringing up the rear” just before the regroup, it is generally thought that Ms. Minelli’s next husband was not in attendance last night.  Unfortunately, this East Hagbournian was also absent, but we should expect to see [ahem] more of her sooon.

The pub (Fleur de Lys) seemed quite nice for a French place, but the nanny state made its presence felt in spite of the landlord’s grand welcome.  This was spotted in the Gents and makes one wonder what instructions are left for the Ladies:

Like you can stop a hasher from pulling his knob...

The trail, a Hotshot exclusive, exhibited some of the prettier bits of of farmland between East Hagbourne and Blewbury and gave the pack ample opportunity to run through mud and water.  Some of the group found themselves far off trail and inadvertently (and without forethought) short cutting away from this bit of shiggy and on to the finish where the food and beverage was being served without the benefit of tables (which were still locked up far away in the Bollard-mobile).  Still, we made due with what was available and got some tantalising offers along the way.  For instance, La Crease was quick to state that “my boot is quite dirty but you fellows are welcome to it,” which makes short cutting that much more attractive since her man was still lost on trail.

There were even beverage alternatives for non-beer drinkers:

Although someone hasn’t quite figured out the mechanics of boxed wine:


But soon the pack filtered in and feasting and merrymaking were only interrupted briefly by the bureaucratic necessity of Circle.  A hearty argument ensued about the precise definition of “odd socks.” Rather than force Gate Crasher to enjoy a beverage as enticement in future to use overall colour scheme as his guide, a youngster was pushed forward in his stead.

This ugliness completed, the vultures returned to the remaining victuals.  Mum and Dad was heard to complain about being offered a floppy sausage.  And, Gadget was heard to complain…so at least some things were normal.

Digital cameras require deft timing to get a shot of harriets handling or swallowing sausages, but the efforts shall continue and God willing....

April 8, 2010

#575 Long Hanborough at George and Dragon

Filed under: Oxford Hash House Harriers — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — Dr Slow Ride @ 6:00 am

I was really looking forward to getting drunk at the White House [pub, that is]…man, that takes me back to my 6th grade school trip to Washington DC. But the hare, Bollard Naked, suddenly changed the venue at the last moment so instead of warm reminiscences about Secret Service agents and stern teachers to deal we were sent down the road to Long Hanborough and the George and Dragon. Still, Long Hanborough has 6 pubs servicing the 2600 residents and this was a nice bonus for those of us that occasionally find ourselves off trail, slightly, and in need of refreshment.

Speaking of drinkers of great excess, the Hanborough station was the last rail stop for Winston Churchill’s remains as they made their way to the parish church grounds in Bladon. His ghost loomed large that night as more than once I overheard hashers channeling the Great Man. For instance, shortly into the march, Salty Nuts exclaimed, “from Bladon on the River Evenlode to Long Hanborough a little further up the Evenlode an ‘iron curtain’ has descended across this hash.” “Quit yer whinging, that’s just a fence,” Mummy’s Boy shot back.

At another point I caught the last bit of this conversation that also evoked the Great Man’s ghost:
Finger Flasher: “…yes and you are short but, in the morning, I shall be sober.”
Whadesay: “Yeah, that would be a first.”

Details, details…oh, some Milton Keynes hashers (sort of the German tourists of the hashing world) showed up to recruit for the 20th Analversary of the MKHHH. Bollard felt guilty for sending Gadget off into the Blenheim Forest wearing a deer costume and left early to warn the hunters that one of the deer might yell in an almost human way, but just keep firing. And, the trail was brief but fairly interesting given the short notice for the change-of-site.

The George and Dragon was packed when we returned, largely due to the fantastic food on offer. I didn’t actually see a menu but I heard that Pink Pussy wouldn’t mind being sandwiched by Victoria and Web F@rt, and that picture has put me off dining in the near term.

I bade adieu to my compatriots, stowed away on a vessel to Bicester, and, as the miles ticked by, Churchill’s words once more rang in my ears:

“Even though large tracts of trail and many old and famous Pubs have fallen or may fall to the grip of cheap supermarket cider and all the odious apparatus of temperance movement rule, we shall not wander too far off trail. We shall go on-on to the end, we shall hash in the county, we shall hash on the marshes and through mounds of cowshite, we shall hash with growing confidence and diminishing brain cells, we shall powder our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall hash on the beaches in the hopes of spying some half-dressed 20-year-olds, we shall hash on the playing grounds, we shall hash in the fields and in the streets, we shall hash in the hills (unless we are in East Anglia on a road trip); we shall never be sober….”

On-I’ve taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me-on,
drSR

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