“The hills are alive with the sound of music”…….reportedly. Who isn’t fed up yet with that repetitive competition my daughter Cum Yak Yak insists on watching every Saturday night? Well on this fine Sunday morning, there were no hills, no music, no Cum Yak Yak and thankfully no bloody Maria. What we did have was a tight-knit bunch of dedicated Lune Valley hashers determined to complete Bitter and Twisted’s stile-rich obstacle course through the Fylde countryside. You haven’t found any porkies yet folks, have you! At the end of our tribulations we could look forward to the now familiar and pleasant surroundings of the hares’ country residence and our own charred BBQ delights peeping out of bread rolls. The fact that the venue was familiar didn’t prevent me from overshooting my right turnings as I approached from an unfamiliar direction and the debris of a day on the beer. So confused was I by the easy-to-follow instructions on the website that I forgot my lunch and had to resort to begging. What are friends for anyway!

So off we set through the countryside following the familiar cereal dust. In between the checks and beer stop I can remember the bewildering sight of men fishing in a puddle and a bit of mushroom education from one of the aforesaid. The masts at Inskip seemed to be always within touching distance, but still we never arrived there. The cows came in varied hues and I distinctly remember one of them proving why they can jump barbed-wire fences when bulls cannot.

The circle was ably conducted by the GM and RA and in addition Bitter was given special powers to give out two DDs to the deserving miscreants. Hash hero was Cyberseptic and his frozen shoulder, both of which completed the course at walking speed. The rest of us suffered the DD treatment for ignoring his presence at the single fish-hook and running round Morticia instead. The highlight of the formalities was a naming ceremony, which left those present faced with the difficult choice between Master Baker and Bum Note. The former won the vote thanks to Upperskirt’s success in repeatedly dusting its recipient in flour.

Earlier mention has been made of the BBQ. The food brought along by most was well complemented by the addition of salads, sauces and service by the hares. By the time I had savoured Morticia’s raspberry cheesecake and done a tour of house and garden, it was time to stagger back to the car and head off towards the grim reality they call Morecambe.