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 20, 2010

OH3 #582 The Bell Inn, Adderbury

Filed under: Oxford Hash House Harriers — Tags: , , , , , , — Dr Slow Ride @ 6:18 pm

“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.}

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 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

March 31, 2010

#574, The Boat Inn, Thrupp

Filed under: Oxford Hash House Harriers — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — Dr Slow Ride @ 10:19 pm

April Fools Day has become increasingly secularised the past few years. On April Fools Eve, little Hashers all over the world tingle with anticipation of the cans of beer and naughty toys and underwear left under their Half-Mind tree or in the back seats of their cars, and the following day we all expect the traditional whoopee cushions, snake-filled cans of peanuts, and the Queen’s Speech.  Too often, though, we lose sight of the true meaning of this day (one of the Holiest in the Hashing calendar).

Not so in Oxford, where the devout elders of the Church of G gathered at The Boat Inn, a sacred temple of the divine ale along a canal in Thrupp (a few hundred meters north of Kidlington).  The intricate feast day activities began with a ritual reenactment of the scourging originally imposed upon the earliest hashers in the jungles of Malaysia.

Leading us through these acts was hare Finger Flasher, who ensured that each supplicant was thoroughly anointed with the fully complement of Shiggy at his disposal: mud, baptismal waters, thorns, and even a plague of toads (well, there was a squashed frog on one of the road crossings and Silent’s flatulance had a toad-like timbre).

Through the windows of The Jolly Boatman, I spotted worshippers of another sect and entered their temple to try to steer them to the one true way, but alas, their false idols had too firm a grip upon them and I soon left having sipped their sacrament and thereby been tempted by the easy comforts Their Way offered. This was indeed a close call, but I soon found my way back on the One True Trail.

And it came to pass that the prophecy was fulfilled, and hot morsels and refreshing beverages were spread before us as supplied by Brothers Farcanal and Gadget. The altar was then set and the ground consecrated by our most Reverend RA Victoria who recognised a visiting RA from the land of Bicester, one Reverend and Most Holy Shagger.

Sins most foul were also noted and I found out that Turkish tradition meant that what would have been just a playful masculinely jovial slap to the bottom back in the States meant, in fact, that Gadget was now my spare wife.  That’s bigamy (and if I haven’t mentioned what’s big o’ me before, ladies, please just ask…just don’t let the new Mrs Ride hear you, he gets a bit jealous).

The joyous fellowship one always finds on these feast days even extended to a nod to the secular traditions.  I refer of course to the April Fool’s prank, this time visited upon apprentice copper Gee Gee String, who had her bike stolen (I don’t care how pious you are, there’s a wee laugh in that one for you).  We were also blessed with a prodigal’s return when the long lost Maneater turned up.

These pestilences exorcised, we adjourned back to the pub and basked in our piety.

Too much activity for a christening today, but soon, little one, soon

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