Scout Scar, Kendal on a beautiful May morning. Septics arrived in time again. This is getting to be a habit! We, along with other hashers, had parked in the wrong car park though and were Hared through to the real one.

The circle welcomed some virgin hashers, a family of four from Holland, and The Brigadier graced our presence again, with partner (apologies for not remembering your name) who decided not to hash on this occasion having been put off in the past by her experience with another hash who will remain nameless. Cousin It also decided to give the hashing a miss as she was recovering from illness and Pudsley was absent at an Orienteering meeting nearby (Orienteering - competitive hashing without beer - sounds masochistic).

The Hares warned us we would get lost in a field of long grass at some stage. They also couldn't remember the on on direction so we checked it out. Despite the sparse markings we followed the trail out to the sunbaked heights of the ridge, but were soon in trouble and had to spread out to find trail which eventually led to Cunswick, from which the view was spectacular.

This reached, the trail led down off the ridge and through the woods. At some stage there was a Rambo split, though obviously not over-taxing or I would have remembered it better, and all came together at the very welcome (as usual) beer stop on the Crook road. Life was bliss until the Hares insisted we pushed on on, across a meadow and through a farmyard which Antiseptic and I realised after a few seconds belonged to good friends of ours. So, stopping to visit for ten minutes we got a little behind and ended up off trail badly. Never mind, we were rewarded in our solitude by sighting a herd of roe deer and, suitably encouraged found flour again, began the climb back up to the ridge.

On catching up with the knitters we gave up the idea of expending energy and enjoyed a pleasant stroll back to the car park. Upperskirt and Fur Coat left before the circle, but never fear, the RA has Upperskirt in her sights and will not forget her down down next time.

The festivities continued with very easy-going down downs as befits such a peaceful gathering in spring:

• The virgins for just being there
• Wednesday for poor horn noises and delegating horn duties
• Minor Tw*t and Off His Trolley for eating loads of wheatabix for breakfast and becomming Rambos
• White Noise for being pessimistic and saying it was going to rain (RA prefers the term liquid sunshine)
• Major Twit and Off His Trolley for being the bringers of rain by wearing sunglasses
• The Brigadier for endearingly calling us the Luney Hash, whereas in fact he only turns up for the choccy biccies.

Except regrettably our Dutch visitors and their hosts Bubbles and Forever Blowing (as they had to head off to catch the Channel ferry), we rolled on, weary but happy, down the hill to the Wheatsheaf at Brigsteer and excellent beer and food.

Concensus - magnificent run thanks to Hares Morticia and Lurch.