Lune Valley Hash House Harriers

Monday 26th February 2024
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R*n 318 location

R*n 318 started from Elterwater Common, Elterwater and the On Inn was Brittania Inn, Elterwater.

Who ran 318? - data up to & including this r*n

Hash HandleHareHoundTotal
Thunder Dick - Hare125365
Forever Blowing33185218
Full Member64147
Gritty Sheets022
No More Cum19114133
Sir Tom Tom52328
Up Yours022

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On Inn - Brittania Inn, Elterwater

Image of Brittania Inn, Elterwater

This was our 1st visit to this On Inn.


Sunday 4th October 2009 at 11:00am

Full MoonR*n 318 »


Yesterday’s premature winter weather complete with wind and rain had today thankfully been replaced by still blue skies, though there were one or two cunning rain clouds sneaking here and there. Early arrivals at the nominated car park included Al and his missus followed by Bubbles and Forever Blowing. The latter hashers had been out bungee-jumping in the area since 7 o’clock and the hash seemed a convenient way of winding down. Full Member was back after his recent sporting successes in the Cumbria Sheep Throwing Championships (CSTC) and Twisted was there with her gong from the Great North Run (GNR), although she had spent the whole day in the pub. Bitter told me so.

Bubbles quickly found his rightful place in the circle and set the pack off in eager pursuit of the live hare Thunder Dick, despite the fact that hundreds of hashers had been delayed in traffic jams caused by the Ambleside Women’s Nude Pancake Tossing Cup (AWNPTC). Upperskirt managed to secure third place in this competition and eventually turned up with the rest of the late-comers just before the first beer stop. We had set out from Elterwater, a hastily thrown together hamlet of rickety farm houses and were due to run up and down the Great Langdale Valley (GLV). The hare excelled today and fully atoned for Bedside Manner his other half’s poor excuse not to run (7 months pregnant) by providing two beer stops at friendly hostelries along the way.

Most of the hashers made both stops, but Morticia did not make the second. I saw Lurch visibly distraught, clutching a pint of orange juice, tears gushing from every facial orifice, beating his bare chest with prickly branches, cursing the fact that Watneys Red Barrel (WRB) was not on tap. Morticia did eventually turn up at the end of the run visibly flushed and rejuvenated, smelling of tarns and musk and shepherds with her hair hanging wild and dishevelled about her face. She tore a full pint of  Black Ram’s Crooked Knob (BRCK) from her husband’s quivering grasp a downed it in one, wiping away the residual froth from her full, puckered lips with the back of her hand.

The rest of the pack were by this time busily munching away, apart from Dormouse and Speed Bump, whose overwhelming need to fornicate au nature had driven them to make an early exit in search of privacy between rocks and boulders, trees and shrubs. We were occasionally reminded of their close proximity by the yelps and grunts, shrieks and barks, which shattered the stillness of a quiet Lakeland afternoon.

Eventually we all drifted away south to where we had come from and it was as though we had never been. My guards arrived on time and packed me tightly back into my jacket, before bundling me roughly into the back of the van. The chips got an eight (8), but would have scraped a nine (9), if the gravy had been a bit tastier.

Write up by an unknown scribe

10th October 2009 at 5:53am