R*N 740 - A tale of The Great Hash Famine of 2020

Once upon a time, in the land of the Hash where the dark grey clouds keep guard against the hot sun, there lived a band of Happy Hashers.

Lead by the Great Mismanagement, they would meet for a biweekly frolic through the shiggy fields of Lancashire, with much merrymaking and consumption of ale. And this merry troupe of kindred souls gave thanks for all the riches of the Hash and they agreed that life was good and gave no thought to the evils of Horrid Virus Infections.

But happy times cannot last for ever, and so it came to pass that in the time of March a great evil came from the east and The Corona Virus arose in the south of the land.

Spreading rapidly from south to north, a fearsome illness known as Covid (or “The ‘Rona” to those in the know) struck down many in the land. The rampant ‘Rona ravaged all before it. Chaos and mayhem stalked the land and the Hashers were most fearful.

In desperation Bozzer the Bumbling Boffer, the leader of the land of Hash, called for a great effort from all and so began The Lockdown which begat the Great Hash Famine of the year 2020.

The Hashers were banished from the Happy Hashing grounds of Lancashire, and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. With their hashing heaven turned upside down many fell into a great despair. But some kept the faith with the Hash and were seen as lonely figures wandering through the fields and lanes of their beloved Lancashire smelling most foully of Hand Sanitiser and muttering ‘On On’ through mouths obscured by facial PPE.

For months there was no Hash and no joy to be had. Then at last Bozzer called for the Great Re-opening and tentatively the Hash resumed with much relief all around

But the ‘Rona had brought with it the Flour Famine, so in their wisdom the Mismanagement began trials of Written Instructions for R*Ns with no flour trails allowed. Over 3 R*Ns these trials were conclusive and demonstrated unequivocally that Hashers, though purporting to be educated, competent and honest, were an independent group of souls completely unable to follow any written instructions whatsoever and willing to cheat and shortcut to get the On Inn and suitable refreshment in the most expeditious manner possible.

With the failure of the Written Instruction the Mismanagement scoured the land for flour and chalk and the Hash was restored to its former glory, albeit limited to socially distanced groups of six to comply with ‘The Rules of Covid’

So at last we come to the story of R*N 740.

On a beautiful northern day of wind and grey skies threatening rain, the Hash met in socially distanced groups of six in Aughton Village Hall car park. There was no circle to start, just a brief hello and we were off, on to the road, sniffing out the trail, over the stile then splat, squelch and yuck, ankle deep in shiggy mess!

We were Hashing!

That was all that mattered, living in the moment and no longer aware of the passing of time, just the thrill of the Hash and the joy of movement.

What can we say about the R*N? Memories are vague, more feelings than detail, just vivid flashes of detailed delight arising from the misty memories of an aged hasher:

• Howls of delight as we pushed hard uphill through the shiggy, past sheep and fence, over stile and stream.
• A herd of frisky bullocks.
• Racy Miss racing hard to avoid being trampled.
• Small Bush gesticulating and shouting to see the beasts off in short order.
• Dogs eating the flour.
• A check near Over Kellett with a long downhill run into the village before the On trail back up the hill was found.
• Puffing and panting back to catch the group - do I really enjoy this?
• The socially distanced and hand sanitised beer stop.
• The Wimps group mysteriously getting ahead of the Rambos despite starting after them.
• Beautiful views and lovely farm houses in a rural delight.
• A long last downhill leg into Aughton with views over the Lune valley.
• The Eagle ‘On Inn’.

So good to be back. And now, oh bo….ks, more Covid restrictions and another Hash Famine! Its going to be a long tedious winter…