A run of three halves, Jimmy.

First Half; Foreplay.
How nice of the Pack to wait around for late comers! This was followed by a scolding from a 50 st. (incl. Motorcycle?) Hells Caring Chappy for being on the road on the last Hash when he was hurtling around the lanes at 40 m.p.h. Gosh, better watch out.

ON2 with Hash business; welcome to visiting Scarborough Hashers VD (Verbal Diarrhoea) and Gonner-ear who are thinking of moving away from Yorkshire (I can only agree). Also, welcome to the Virgins; Mark (might come back in 6 months), Claire (I'm not with HIM!), Jarrod and Darren who wants to be called "Killy". Darren it is then.

A bit of VD from the Hares about going in crocodile and taking care crossing the road - a brief fantasy about being taken in hand by Atomic Caton quickly put away in case I start to go blind. An A2B run and we will be ferried back to the start by a sober Hare (- ?). Pity they didn't explain about the trail and flour and all that - but perhaps they didn't really know either! - more of that anon.

Second Half; Heavy Sweating.
Non stop road running with flour thoughtfully and conveniently laid every ½ mile or so. Scenic suburbia giving way to the delicate airs and deleterious detritus of a social amenity site and mud flats. More road. Few checks. Pack refreshed at the aptly named Warton Crag by a splendid choice from Brandy, hot mulled wine or sparkling water for those of a more delicate disposition.

Third Half; Penetrating the Bush (Rambo Run).
Eventually off road and up, up, up, up, Warton Crag - gorgeous terrain and scenery and a good selection of wet brown shiggy for the Pack to enjoy. On2 to the check sabotaged by the angry natives and which saw a number of the Pack sent off in the completely wrong direction. Fortunately for the rest of the Pack help was at hand in the shape of the shapely Angel of Mercy - the Virgin St. Claire - "I'm sure we did it the other way" (!) - and she was right! However, sparse flour and chalk disappeared but an innate hash instinct eventually brought all the Pack to the POSH New Inn (even those mislead by the cunning natives) where we had a Blue Room all to ourselves - and the RA's fantasies.

D2s were a whimsical affair to get rid of the largest quantity of cheap piss available from the kitty and also for the pack to witness the formal Christening of "Who's my Mum" who acquitted his D2 with some appreciable aplomb belying his tender years.  (No doubting who his Dad is then - Ed)

Finally the warm and relaxed ON2 took on the air of a disaster movie, as a cunning plan was developed to get us all back to the start. Gallant Hashmen one and all stoically volunteered to stay behind in the pub (excellent Hartley's) while the dogs and women were evacuated first into the pouring rain and wind. Isn't it good to know that the age of Hash chivalry is not yet dead?