A roasting hot day saw the intrepid campers arrive at the meeting place about half an hour late (but who cares on a camping weekend?) having been promised a shorter run than the previous day.  That is, all except Baby Shit and Annoying Habit, who made excuses about sunburn or something and went straight to the pub.  A curious starting point for the run in a small industrial estate 200 yards from the pub, but plenty of parking.  Noticed a heavily tanned business owner/employee chap (obviously keen if working at the weekend) sitting on a chair outside his workshop wearing only shorts in full blazing sun, reading a mag.  Obviously on lunch break.  I said good day but no response.  Probably thought we were some extremist sport enthusiasts or something.

Anyway, a brief briefing, in view of the furnace conditions (I missed most of the instructions through lateness) and on-on along the baking tarmac.   Things started looking up when we crossed the road and on to the golf course.  While distracted by the cry of a pair of buzzards squabbling with crows we got quickly confused and were researching the way out of a field, when we were accosted by a neighbouring resident who said the farmer would shoot us if he knew we were there, and advised us to go back.  Undeterred, we made excuses that we were following a trail very badly and went on, eventually discovering trail through a gate onto a lane.

The next section of the run was a series of R-W splits, which seemed to take us Rambos around pointless minor excursions just to rejoin the Wimps a little further on.  Though, it did have the right effect of slowing us down; not difficult in 30 degrees and relentless sun.  For once, even Slackbladder was dragging feet under the hot conditions and after his 21-mile Wasdale fell race the previous day.  The marking was fairly sparse and at an open check just before a farm, Hash Drunk claimed he'd lost Pick Me Up (again).  After lengthy checking and finding flour on two trails (unusual for an open check) we just stood there dithering, until Pick-Me-Up returned claiming trail through the farm and that she'd been shouting her head off.  What a cock-up!

The trail climbed up to a disused railway path and along it for a bit until yet another, what proved to be the last R-W split.  We Rambos just battled on until totally stumped by trail which finished at a private garden and seemed to lead out onto a road and disappear.  Fugitive Nipple went to beg a water refill at the house and didn't think to ask if there was a right of way through the garden, so we jogged up the road until convinced we had lost trail.  Slackbladder came to the rescue by leading through a gate and across a field until we caught sight of Lurch doing a windmill impression in the distance.  He claimed, to our despair, that we were still only two thirds around the run.  He accompanied us to the refreshment stop (orange squash has never tasted so good!) and gave encouraging hints for the next section, which, on reflection, probably saved our lives.  The Duke, by now, had bonked through lack of food and because he had repeated Saturday's run that morning in a fit of misguided enthusiasm, so, unusually, he trailed at the back.

In Broughton we passed right by a pub on trail and didn't stop (second time in two days!) and what really rankled was that Baby Shit and Annoying Habit were sitting outside it, beer in hand.  The last mile and a half were desperate, re-crossing the golf course and back along the main road to the industrial estate where, unbelievably, that same chap was still reading his mag in the searing heat and still just wearing shorts.  A quick circle, or more of a line-up so that most of us could cower in the shade of a wall, with down-downs for:

• The Hares - for a great run, despite dodgy marking, particularly at the garden conundrum
• FFG - for living up to his name and not understanding that the drinks dispenser has an outlet tap
• Lurch - for being spotted in two-day-old red socks and sandals
• Hash Drunk - for pushing Pick-Me-Up out of the car to improve ground clearance (second downer in two days for the same thing)
• Bubbles - for being a manipulator
• RA - for forgetting we had a visitor
• Hand Job - visitor
• Baby Shit - for being an inexperienced hasher, for being an experienced hasher and for being an Essex girl (sunburnt legs)
• Annoying Habit - suggested name change to Rectum Habit (not sure why)

Curiously, an all-male down-down session.  Antiseptic and Forever Blowing also ran.  Sorry if I've forgotten anyone.

The run had proved to be a bit long for the hot conditions, but plenty of variety and the views were great.  Thanks to Bubbles and Lurch.  The On-inn was reported to be excellent, though I couldn't stick around for it.