We started off with three hard core hashers assembling in the muddy car park as the light faded, hearing dire warnings from the hares about mud, floods, nettles and MAJOR shiggy. Their prophecies were abundantly fulfilled, many times over!

As we ran away from the warm and welcoming pub into the murky darkness, we were glad of a friendly Hare accompanying us and giving us subtle hints when the checks went on too long. However, it quickly turned into “Carry On Hashing”, as the double-entendres flew thick and fast.

At the first wobbly stile, the hare went first to show us how to negotiate it safely. Her cries of “OH! My f*cking thumb!” were dutifully repeated by all the hounds, but only Upper got the required degree of venom into it. Next, there was a swamp of shiggy, and STT was nearly sucked off in the bog! (OOOH! MATRON!). Meanwhile, Upper was guilty of making noises like a whoopee cushion, as she squelched through the shiggy swamp (she said it was her trainer). STT then failed to get his leg over at the next gate, which didn’t surprise us.

Next stop “Paedophiles Pleasure”, a holiday camp for children where the footpath has had to be re-routed to stop suspicious characters watching the children at play. We dutifully ran round the long way, trying hard to look normal, but failing miserably.

Finally, after all the mud, sweat and tears, we came to an icy, calf-deep flood, which had the advantage of washing all the mud off of our trainers, but ensured that we ended the evening with thoroughly wet feet. Bitter was already installed in the pub and nursing his second pint, so we quickly changed and went in. The good beer and food make this pub a great hashing venue - thanks to the hares for a good Full Mooner.