Lune Valley Hash House Harriers

Wednesday 23rd May 2018
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R*n 311 location

R*n 311 started from seafront car park, Bardsea and the On Inn was Braddylls Arms, Bardsea.

Who ran 311? - data up to & including this r*n

Hash HandleHareHoundTotal
Dormouse - Hare74855
Speedbump - Hare74148
Antiseptic32135167
Baldbrick14142156
Cyberseptic36123159
Full Member63945
Master Baker11104115
Sir Tom Tom31821
Upperskirt17186203

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On Inn - Braddylls Arms, Bardsea

Image of Braddylls Arms, Bardsea

This was our 1st visit. We also visited on...

Regulars real ales include Black Sheep Bitter, Jennings and Ruddles County.

www.braddyllsarms.co.uk

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Sunday 26th July 2009 at 11:00am

DaytimeR*n 311 »

Bardsea

Ever since the dawn of recorded history, mankind has been locked in a life-or-death struggle against the forces of flour. From Our Lord upsetting the laws of supply and demand by feeding the multitude with far fewer loaves than logic or circumstances dictated, through King Alfred burning the cakes, to Marie Antoinette losing her head over an unwise recommendation of bakery product, flour has always been there to shape our destiny for us and thwart our attempts to evolve.

If hashing is the modern-day embodiment and expression of that struggle, then Bardsea must surely rank as a prime candidate for its Armageddon. Oh, dear reader, if only you could have been there to witness for yourself the true grit and dogged determination of those seven fearless flour-fighters, you wouldn't have to read this load of cr*p instead!

Our superb fighting force (no need to list them, you know who they are - the usual mad b*ggers who wake up on a Sunday morning to the sound of torrential rain battering against the bedroom window and gale-force winds taking off the ridge tiles and think "Good day for a r*n!") assembled on the battlefield at the appointed hour (to the great relief of hares Speedbump and Dormouse, who thought they were going to be on their own), ready for action. Scarcely a word was spoken - frankly, it's a bit difficult talking when every time you open your gob it fills with rainwater - but we all knew what we had to do. Besides, this was the seaside, so plenty of opportunity for spotting bikini-babes eh guys?

So, off we jolly well trotted along the golden sands, girls with their eyes to the ground in search of the rapidly disintegrating piles of white stuff, while the fellas turned their gaze seawards in the hope of spotting the aforementioned bathing-belles. Sadly, however, for some inexplicable reason the scantily-clad totty was not there in abundance, so we had to keep our spirits up by singing merry ditties like "The Sun Has Got His Hat On" and "I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside" instead.

Eventually, we decided that Force 8 gales just weren't bracing enough, so we headed for the higher ground in search of the Force 10s. We were not disappointed. It should be pointed out at this stage that a key feature of this hash was the checks. Lots of them. Hundreds in fact. No heaps of flour, just checks leading to more checks leading to even more checks. A bit tricky when there are only seven of you, and as our ragged r*nners started to scatter in all directions trying desperately to maintain contact with each other in spite of the hostile atmospheric conditions, I was reminded of the nightmare of Whitbarrow Scar. Hang on a sec - didn't Speedbump and Dormouse hare that one too?

Then it dawned on me - that Scottish chappy must deliberately be setting r*ns on wet days to avoid having to take a shower in the morning, so he can save money on his water bill! I've long had my suspicions about that bloke. Rumour has it that the reason he often does the course in reverse is because he thinks the Hash has to pay HIM a pound! He even tried to save money on beer by hiding the beer stop in a hollow behind a wall, but we were far too alert to be fooled by that one. Doesn't the guy realise that true hashers can detect the aroma of strong ale at 800 yards, even when it's still sealed in the can?

Anyway, after down-downs back at the car-park (where yours truly was chastised for being over-dressed, having been castigated on the previous r*n for being naked - there's just no pleasing some folk), we eventually made it to the comfort of the on-inn (The Bradylls Arms, good grub, nice ale), having fortunately dried out somewhat during the second hour of the r*n. Weather aside, a good time was had by all, many thanks SB and DM. Now, what we really need is more flies. Maybe R*n 313 will oblige, who knows....

On On

Sir Tom Tom

Write up by Sir Tom Tom

1st August 2009 at 5:53am