Well, you've got me scribing again, except I forgot to write things down straight away, so I've forgotten most of the run now. Anyway, here goes.

Eight Hashers plus hares turned out at the Bay Horse, Arkholme for this, probably the last mid-week full moon run this year to take place in daylight, in perfect, calm evening sunshine. Onon down hill (towards the river)took us through the village and very soon to the first of three R-W splits. After a circular excursion by the river, we Rambos found ourselves back in the village, only to find the marker arrow modified to direct us on the wimps' route. Undaunted, we pressed on and I made a complete pigs ear of crossing the main road, missing the markers on the footpath opposite and wandering aimlessly down the road finding no trail, while Slackbladder did same in opposite direction. Stumbled across route eventually with help from a friendly hare.

After this the route got serious, ie uphill, but views steadily opened up and the ideal weather made the evening blissful. A curious R-W split followed soon, all of 50 metres long, seemingly just to test the Rs strength of will in an almost impassable gully (a little exaggeration here), but we emerged triumphant and continued the climb. By the third R-W split most of the Rs had lost it and transmutated to Ws, leaving only Slackbladder to push the frontiers and me following on, which meant I was last to the beer stop. Or so I thought until I realised that No More Cum hadn't arrived. Quite an original idea for a hare to follow the hashers a quarter of a mile behind, quite intentional of course!

When NMC at last arrived at the beer stop it was time for games. Passing the egg got very messy because we were late to realise that letting the egg drop on the soft grass had a much lower chance of breaking it than our pathetic attempts at catching. Gossamer had a last-second reprieve in pass-the-peanut-on-the-tongue when Hash Drunk dropped it just before he was able to offer tongue to her. Pass-the-orange-under-the-chin was an almost total disaster as all hashers have small chins, or so it seemed until HD's Quasimodo impression proved highly effective at both gripping the orange and making Pick Me Up pee herself.

Thus sated we dragged ourselves away from the now darkening, glorious view over Ingleborough, down the hill and on-inn. Thanks to the hares for a magical evening run in idylic conditions and situation. Thoroughly enjoyed.

Noway can I remember all the downdowns, but perhaps uniquely they took place without a bucket, Nipple having left it at the beerstop, so that was one DD. RA kept rambling on about football and got shouted off and Nipple had forgotten the toilet seat yet again. Anyway, the circle was conducted in haste because the England match had already started and the pub had a TV.