Doesn't time fly when you're getting old? I mean, it only seems like yesterday we completed (yes, COMPLETED) r*n 453, or 425bis, or Groundhog Day, or whatever you want to call it - but it can't be; I mean, its usually a few weeks before you get discharged from hospital after NMC sets a r*n. There we all were, though, standing on the car park of the Roebuck ready for the off. When I say "all", I use the term loosely - the hare must have been a bit worried until 72% of the hounds arrived in one car!

GM STT started the proceedings in his usual masterful and efficient manner, and off we went, greatly comforted by Hare Bitter's assurances that the going was "good to firm". I think we'd all had enough of wading through swamps over the past year! And so r*n A6 (sorry, 454) began, at least for most of us; Antiseptic, presumably hallucinating, thought she saw a trail of flour leading directly into the pub, dutifully followed it, got lost in the labyrinthine maze of rooms therein, and decided to stay put to avoid getting any further off trail.

So, while the rest of us were sweating, she was sweatering (as in knitting one, that is); while we were getting the stitch, she was stitching; while we were r*nning, she was getting bladdered. Sorry, couldn't think of any more puns there.

The Wimps/ Rambos split was right at the beginning of the r*n, and five minutes had elapsed before we Rambos realised that Upperskirt was not with us - she had decided to wimp it on her own. This is in direct contravention of LVH3 rule 72 sub-section 3 paragraph 5 which clearly states, and I quote, "at no point during a r*n shall Upperskirt be allowed to wander off unescorted, and she must remain under close supervision at all times". An inquiry has been launched to determine how this appalling breach of protocol occurred. Fortunately, we found her on this occasion; next time, we probably won't be so lucky.

The Hare was true to his promise. The trail was a mix of the A6, quiet lanes, the A6, farm lanes and bridleways, the A6, canal towpaths, and the A6. Some of it went alongside a busy main road, the name of which escapes me for the moment. There were plenty of checks, where the seasoned and wise veteran hashers hung back, allowing Muddy Waters to display her vitality and trail-finding skills uninterrupted.

Not that we really needed anyone to find the trail, however - Twisted amazed all of us with her psychic powers. At every check, she was able to point us in the right direction with an uncanny, unerring accuracy. That woman really has the gift; it was almost as if she had prior knowledge of the trail. Thanks to her supernatural abilities, and the athletic prowess of Muddy Waters and Fiddler, who kept things moving at a cracking pace, we got back to the pub at about quarter past eight.

RA Baldbrick, under strict instructions from Hash Cash not to squander Hash funds unnecessarily, decided that we had all behaved ourselves and awarded just two down-downs, thereby limiting the expense to just a single can of Boddies. Then, into the pub for the post-hash prandials. I've always said that you can't beat good food, good ale and scintillating company, and two out of three isn't bad.

Many thanks to Bitter for setting a trail which was runable, and for filling this full-moon slot at relatively short notice. He's back in action again next full-moon, along with Twisted

On on to Winster on the 10th!

STT.

PS At the end-of-r*n circle, I wrongly announced that the on inn for r*n 455 would be The Brown Cow, when I should have said The Brown Horse. Apparently said establishment has been found to contain 100% equine DNA.