Having opted out of several invitations to Winmarleigh as being too far south for a Cumbrian Hasher, and having waited in vain for our northern summer, I was in need of a drive to the far south (somewhere near London) to suitably test out my brand new car.

I had heard news of mythical hot summers in the south, unlike those witnessed in the Lune Valley, so I hoped that a trip down the M6 would lead to fine warm limpid climes with desert-like dry earth underfoot. Nothing could be further from the truth!

First impressions of Goosnargh were good. The rain stopped before the run started. The village green looked like a scene from Merrie England and the pub was warm and welcoming. The wimp’s route was lush and green with cows and sheep grazing happily in fields – a bit too lush – a bit too green!

Soon we found out why it was called Goosenargh – lovely weather for geese who would really have enjoyed our run.

Shiggy Shiggy everywhere and not a drop to drink!

I have seen many runs with shiggy – but this is a Guinness World Record.

Except there wasn’t any Guinness – it only looked that colour.

As we plodged across hill and dale the shiggy got deeper and deeper until our clean white trainers were ankle deep in clinging sucking mud that threatened to suck off our shoes and leave them forever surrounded by cow pats, sheep pats and clarty mud pats.

Running speeds were halved as we struggled across field after field but there was no let-up until finally a distant beer stop appeared on the far horizon.

What was the condition of the Rambos route I have no idea, except that it took them an awful long time to reach the circle after I had wimped out and opted for the shortest route home. Even the tarmac was welcome!

Well done hares for setting the run in torrential rain early in the morning and for choosing better weather at 11am and well done for a warm dry pub with excellent food.

Down downs were given to numerous people but reasons eluded me after a few beers.

On On to Ninebanks