R*n 401 started from the On Inn - Milecastle Inn, Haltwhistle.
Hash Handle | Hare | Hound | Total |
---|---|---|---|
Bubbles - Hare | 51 | 222 | 273 |
Forever Blowing - Hare | 39 | 217 | 256 |
Antiseptic | 40 | 185 | 225 |
Baldbrick | 19 | 210 | 229 |
Blade Runner | 0 | 3 | 3 |
Cum Yak Yak | 5 | 102 | 107 |
Cyberseptic | 46 | 173 | 219 |
Dormouse | 10 | 88 | 98 |
Full Member | 10 | 65 | 75 |
Hash Drunk | 18 | 101 | 119 |
Lurch | 43 | 217 | 260 |
Morticia | 38 | 206 | 244 |
Naarnia | 0 | 3 | 3 |
No More Cum | 21 | 140 | 161 |
Off His Trolley | 15 | 140 | 155 |
Pick Me Up | 18 | 97 | 115 |
Run Me Down | 0 | 2 | 2 |
Sir Tom Tom | 16 | 90 | 106 |
Speedbump | 10 | 78 | 88 |
Upperskirt | 21 | 262 | 283 |
White Noise | 13 | 126 | 139 |
Click the header columns to change the sort order
21
This was our 1st visit to this On Inn.
In addition to the above, we were pleased to welcome the following guest r*nners: Boghopper (SH4), Give Her One (SH4), making a total of 21 hounds.
A room in semi-darkness. The first rays of the early morning sun sneak in through a gap in the curtains and are reflected off the hairless head of a shadowy figure standing by the door. A moment's hesitation. A flick of the switch, and in the time it takes electrons to travel through a few yards of wiring our sleeping quarters fill with bright artificial light. There is a loud grumble as we come out of hibernation.
"I hate to do this guys, but we have to be out of here by half past ten and it's nine o'clock already."
"It's eight o'clock you p*llock."
"Oh, sh*te!"
Fortunately, the rest of our merry group had abandoned BST (Baldbrick Standard Time), and the r*n began at 11.00 GMT as scheduled. Part of the trail took us along a wall built by someone called Adrian, whom the locals insisted on calling "Hadrian". They obviously all talked posh round there, so we thought we'd better go with the flow and punctuated our progress with cries of "Hon Hon!" and "H'are you?"
The wall was a great disappointment. Talk about shoddy workmanship - parts of it were nearly falling down! Honestly, no-one ever builds anything to last these days.
Due to a cock-up on the trail-finding front by the Rambos, fellow Wimp Baldbrick and myself ended up as the de facto FRBs on permanent checking duty for most of the r*n. Having successfully guided the knitting circle through the twists and turns of our Northumberland trail, we were then punished with down downs for "not following the flour"! No pleasing some folk.
Two naming ceremonies for third-r*n graduates today, so welcome to the fold Naarnia and Blade Runner!
Lunch at the splendid Milecastle Inn was a rushed affair, with everyone wanting to eat up and get out quickly so as not to have to pick up Dormouse's food tab. He did eventually pay, although his technique of scratting around in the bottom of a tiny purse for coppers can be a little disconcerting.
Great r*n, and a fitting end to a superb weekend. Well done hares!
Write up by Sir Tom Tom
31st October 2011 at 6:30am