Well peeps, here we are once again north of the border in Cumbria, again in Staveley, again at the Eagle and Child, and again I'm writing the Trash. This time we were joined by a friend of the Sceptics called Ian, I think. Also by my eldest son who is Black Pussy and his mate Matt, also Wednesday and her friend.

To the run. This time we set off in the opposite direction from the pub, up the village and soon up hill. Big hill, complete with fishook near the top. Highway you are becoming a fascist like Lurch. On we went, up and up and up to the tarn where Cyberseptic had previously skinny dipped. Fortunately I missed that run so was spared the huge shock, theres no wonder Antiseptic smiles so much and runs slightly bowleggedly.

The rest of the run seems to have been going downhill at a breakneck speed back on to familiar turf to Staveley. I should have written this sooner then I would have remembered more details. Twas a very good run, thankyou Highway and son. All back safe and to the circle.

Down Downs went to Tw*t for that embarrassing haircut, Me for wall jumping, although in my defence, being the supreme athlete that I am I didn't actually touch the wall, Black Pussy for hardly ever being seen and creating his own trail, Slackbladder for being Slackbladder and for his dog fouling the trail, well he blamed his dog. The visitor Ian and the virgin Matt got a down down, We thought the highlight of the circle was when the RA said she was going to give her husband one. We men watched with baited breath only to realise she meant a down down for getting lost following Wednesday and her equally lovely friend. Quite obviously the contours and curving lines that Bitter was concentrating on had bugger all to do with an ordnance survey map, and finally to the naming of Highways son Phil, after much debate he was named Chemical Alley. And this was run 203, and some of us went to the pub for good beer and grub.

Visitors:
Matt
Wednesday's friend