Gunfire heralded the start of r*n 608 from The Bridge Inn at Tatham and fear of fog was quickly replaced by terror in the bog.

A good turnout of gunge-hungry souls cantered away on decent ground over the bridge toward the beautiful Church of St. James the Less. Sinners that we are, running/walking past morning mass, blowing trumpets and shouting, we were aptly rewarded with far more not less (mud that is).

On on over the super slippy stiles and into the quagmire! Where have your trainers gone? chirps the wellie-wearing Midget Gem.

The first of two wimp/rambo splits are marked marvelously with bucket-loads of flour, although evidently not enough for Cyberseptic who meets Twisted and Lurch coming in the opposite direction before protesting that it was in fact he who was on the rambo split. Not even fog to blame for that one, which had now evaporated to reveal a pleasant winter day.

I'm not one for punishing those that foul the trail, however catching up and finding Madge mid-foul is a bit much (son-in-laws shouldn't see that). I would have dobbed in at the circle but was still too traumatised. Someone please tell Madge that hedges are only effective cover in spring and summer.

At the beer stop (yay!) there is appreciation from some for the liquorice allsorts which someone must have donated as an unwanted Christmas present. Morticia and Antiseptic are late-comers to the beer stop so gentlemanly Cyber goes to look. Lurch does too, eventually.

The second wimp/rambo split is immediately from the beer break, the rambos heading through the floods. The things people do for pleasure notes Lurch, wading on through.

Meanwhile on the wimps the first check is checked by Syd, in one direction, and Madge in the other. After some time Syd returns flour-less and Madge is long gone. Why have you come back? asks Loose Elastic. I couldn't find it, says Syd. Well neither can Madge. Oh well I'll go back then, says Syd. Days go by! Good luck to all those heading to Portugal.

Please remember to buy shares in McDougalls before Sir Tom Tom and Fiddler on the Hoof hare again and don't be surprised if Greggs are short of baps tomorrow. There was enough flour for handprints on bums and for Tarty and Baldbrick to try it as hair replacement therapy.

Final thoughts to finish:

Note to self 1: If Baldbrick is wearing wellies in the starting circle then he knows something I don't and leave the trainers in the car.

Note to self 2: Don't stand behind Loose Elastic in the circle if she is taking a down-down unless you like wearing eau-de-beer during your Sunday dinner.