A write up for run 747 is superflous. GIve up reading now and turn instead to the instruction book drawn up by hares Thunder Dick, Cotside Manner and Bedside Manner. Not that you'll find that much congruence between it and the route we experienced. Also we had Hard Astern,our Religious Adviser, making copious notes on his smart phone of any alleged inftraction of hashing rules (in my case this appeared to be any utterances I made). We await publication of the first volume misdemeanors at the time of writing. [Also wasn't there a rule about phones on the Hash that RA has broken?]

Our bubble taxied out ready to take off on the 747 in what would best be described as an invigorating northerly wind that would have frozen the nuts off the squirrels. I salute the determination of the cake sellers next to the car park, persevering in the cold for several hours with a surprisingly modest level of customers.

By two hundred metres Twisted and I had persuaded ourselves to go the wrong way and not for the first time the tortoise and hare propostion was put to the test as First Class Stomp and Special Delivery eased their later bubble in front of us.

Trowbarrow and its environs had lovely woodland with spring seeping through. After a bit of checking we found ourselves behind as First Class Stomp and Special Delivery once again.

We clattered noisily across the duckboards at the wild fowl sanctuary, scaring any self-respecting shy creatures, but not the boomin bitten. I'm grateful for my companiions remarking upon it, as I'd assume otherwise that it was a bit of industrial machinery in need of a service.

The 'gentle hill' had me looking for a defibilator by the time Leighton Hall slipped behind us. But while defribilators seem to be available whenever you don't need one, there was none to be found, so I sat on the bench for a quiet moment until that annoying RA requested that we perform fish hooks or be publicly shamed.

We played spot the summer house and spot the limestone kiln for a while.  We also tried to help the RA develop some Limericks, but anyone who remembers The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy must understand that the quality of our combined Limericks was on a par with Vogon poetry.

We then headed off towards the beer stop chez the hares residence. Unfortunately Hard Astern caught a foot and did a rather spectacular crater, rapidly arising and proclaiming he was OK. However shortly after he was nursing a pulled/torn and painful leg muscle. Luckily we had two doctors with us, or it woulid have been lucky if they had been in a modern well-equpped surgery, which they weren't. So instead he limped to the sanctuary of the beer stop and shortly after we bid him farewell for a while.

NB True to predictions, being post-morning, Cotside had managed to get out of bed and say hello, but that invigorating chill wind had her retreating indoors soon after.
We finished off with musically themed route hints whereby Twisted, Ready About or Large Package made declarations along the line of Lambert, I knew him well.

The last of the Rambo splits threatened an unending hash as we kept coming back round past the demented plastic cow and green gate. It's an interesting little path if you haven't done it before..

Morticia's bubble appeared a little later and the Adams indulged in a rare treat - bacon butty with generous bacon. Possibly my only meal out this year, though we stretched to a take-away pizza as we shed our lock-down inhibitions.

On-on - beautiful run of goodly length, ideal for a fresh spring morning. Excellent outing. And a reminder of what we've been missing for several months (well apart from Large Package's excellent run last week).