Lune Valley Hash House Harriers

Saturday 31st October 2020
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R*n 320 location

R*n 320 started from Bishopdale Valley Bunkhouse, Thoralby and the On Inn was Streethead Inn, Newbiggin-in-Bishopdale.

Who ran 320? - data up to & including this r*n

Hash HandleHareHoundTotal
Cyberseptic - Hare38126164
Lurch - Hare34171205
Feels on Wheels157388
Forever Blowing33187220
Off His Trolley1197108
Sir Tom Tom52530
White Noise98998

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On Inn - Streethead Inn, Newbiggin-in-Bishopdale

This was our 1st visit to this On Inn.


Friday 23rd October 2009 at 8:00pm

Hash WeekendR*n 320 »

Thoralby, Bishopdale - 321 Weekend

Friday 1800 hrs and the new batch of prisoners had just arrived at Konzentrationslager Bishopdale. After being assigned bunks in the quarantine block, the hapless (hopeless?) inmates were lined up in front of the quartermaster sergeant, Oberscharfuhrer Antiseptic, to be issued with the new regulation blue uniform, before being herded into the camp canteen for the distribution of the evening ration of soup and bread. For some bizarre reason, copious quantities of cake were also handed out - not as an act of kindness, as we later found out, but as part of the overall strategy of control and subjugation.

We were then jostled and prodded onto the parade ground for evening roll call under the watchful eye of the Rapportfuhrer, the notorious Hauptscharfuhrer Cyberseptic, and his assistant, a tall surly individual equalled in brutality only by his wife, also on the camp staff, who delighted in throwing beer and chocolate drops onto totally innocent prisoners without any provocation whatsoever.

Little did they know, however, that we were all ready to implement our escape plan! We had smuggled lamps and torches onto the Appelplatz, and, shortly after 2000 hrs., realising that there was only one guard-dog on patrol, we decided to make our move! No sooner had we heard the rallying cry of "On on!" from our leaders than we sprinted off into the inky-black night, leaving our guards running around like headless chickens, in total disarray!

Even though our escape route was marked out with small heaps of flour (rumour had it that Scharfuhrer Lurch had been bribed to assist in our flight), our journey was not without risk! Any one of the hundreds of molehills we encountered could have concealed an anti-personnel mine or, even worse, an exploding jammie dodger! Also, we could not avoid paddling through a lengthy stretch of utterly disgusting, foul-smelling shiggy. Samples have been sent away for laboratory analysis; in the meantime, however, hashers who have subsequently been in contact with family members may wish to consider having them culled to prevent further spread of infection.

It was then that we discovered the purpose of the cake ration: our waistlines had expanded to the point at which it was becoming almost impossible to squeeze our bodies through the narrow stiles and gateways strategically placed by our guards around the camp perimeter! Realising that they might catch up with us at any moment, and to throw the guard-dog off the scent of our evil-smelling footwear, we darted into nearby licensed premises to hide. Most of us felt the urge to partake of liquid sustenance during our stay there, which was of necessity a long one.

We eventually broke cover and left the comfort of the George Inn for the chilly autumnal air outside, but it was only a matter of minutes before we thought it would be a sensible precaution to take shelter in another safe house, the Fox & Hounds; by a strange coincidence, this place also seemed to stock intoxicating beverages, which we felt obliged to sample.

Once again we ventured out into the night, but for some reason we were finding it increasingly difficult to run and after a mile or so had no option but to stagger into a third place of concealment, the Street Head Inn. Surprisingly, this establishment also sold alcohol; how we cursed the fact that our escape route had exposed us to so much temptation!

After lengthy discussion, we reluctantly accepted that escape was impossible and the majority decided to head back to the camp and throw themselves at the mercy of the commandant. A small group of inmates from Block 4, however - myself, Highway, Speedbump and Dormouse - opted to risk another half hour or so. When finally, at around half past midnight, we crept silently onto our palliasses, we were confident that our late arrival had passed unnoticed by the guards and that we would not incur the collective punishment of being made to run in the rain the following day!

Some "Hash Facts" for the anoraks among you:

  • Hash start: 8 pm;
  • Hash finish: Midnight;
  • Distance covered: 4 miles;
  • Average speed: 1 mph;
  • Fuel consumed: 5 pints (average);
  • Rate of consumption: 6.4 mpg or 66.4 litres/100 km.

On On

Sir Tom Tom

Write up by Sir Tom Tom

29th October 2009 at 1:53pm