A fine band of hashers gathered on the coldest, greyest day of the Autumn yet. After a two minute silence (respectful hash hush) and a briefing from the hares who stated "there's not much shiggy", we were off!

The noticeboard at the church as we passed gave encouragement - "God provides sturdy shoes for rocky paths". This was it, the Lord was going to be with us - our path would be shown by a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. No way could we get lost - the hares were with us also my child.

At the wimps/rambo split we were lost. Well not entirely, but few realised the split had happened, especially Rusty the dog who just had to keep on running up front despite Atomic Caton wanting to do the wimps as mop up.

The weather closed in as we followed the Wyre valley. With NO BEER STOP there was little opportunity for regrouping and some of the smaller checks were nearly missed. Up past the Dukes country pile we got to a check which gave an opportunity for some regrouping. So far, the run had been well laid but here, the on took some finding. On trail again, we completed the last leg over clarty fields.

Well, Nipples definition of shiggy and mine are different - there was shiggy on my shoes and it will be there for eternity - which brings us back to where we started. No pillar of cloud or fire marked our trail, no rocky paths - we were the lost wanderers shuffling through shiggy.

That said, it was a great run (good one for the summer next year) with a good turnout. Down downs were awarded as follows:

• The hares (Fugitive Nipple and Atomic Caton) because they were the hares and there was NO BEER STOP!
• Minor Tw*t for asking a hare the way
• Off His Trolley for having a birthday
• Bitter for being limp wristed
• The Brigadier for being the Brigadier (a visitor who is GM of a hash in Spain that only runs once a year but lives in Preston)
• Thunder Dicks better half was named 'Bedside Manner' - she's a GP or something.

On the subject of religion. Our new RA (Antiseptic) is a fervent extremist who will stop at nothing in her pursuit of teaching us new songs in her evangelical zeal - we sang two new ones this morning, which is probably more than they did at the church nearby!

As The Fleece was closed for refurbishment it was on to the Black Bull at Brookhouse where a select number quaffed.

Major Twit (with some help from a Tw*t)