R*n 465: Cockerham

The pack gamely assembled in the car park in gale force winds (check out hounds' attire - the date may say 'high summer' but the weather did not oblige). Once we heard Off His Trolley was Chief Tutor for the virgin Hare, we prepared ourselves for the worst...and were not disappointed. All went well for the first 15 minutes, when we last saw a Fiddler on the Hoof, who ushered us down a lane into a field - Dormouse and No More Cum decided to take a more circuitous route for some reason - but did catch us up again in this lane/field that we loved so much, that we returned to twice more (FOLLOWING FLOUR..HOW DID THAT HAPPEN, HARES? DODGY MARKINGS WE THINK) during the course of our extended sojourn in the environs of Cockerham.

The hares had even managed to sabotage a sponsored horse ride by having the Hash run back and forwards, through and around the route many times. Like a real hunt! After the third visit to the aforementioned lane we were beginning to get a bit scared. Was this how we were to spend the rest of our lives? How to escape? All flour led there! Help! Groundhog Day! Then someone decided bravely to go off piste, ignore the flour and just head to the village. Hurrah! An surprise outbreak of common sense. We reconvened sometime after two hours knackered for a well deserved beer and some new namings, which sadly cannot be recalled.