Another impressive performance from Large Package and First Class Stomp - they really are getting good at this haring lark. For starters, even though we have hashed from Chipping a couple of times before, I don't recall doing any of this trail before. Also, close collaboration with the Met Office meant we were able to complete the trail, eat, and get back to the cars before the heavens opened. Impeccable timing. However, I feel obliged to point out the following shortcomings.....

Firstly, many of the roads leading to Chipping were in a shocking state of disrepair; about ten miles of tarmac would have done the job, Sadly, these hares - like so many others - just couldn't be bothered to hire a road roller, jackhammer and pneumatic drill and get up a couple of hours earlier and get it sorted. We really need to review the hare's job description.

Secondly, there were nowhere near enough stiles on the trail. Sometimes we went a whole ten yards without seeing one. Moreover, a couple of them showed signs of having been maintained. This really isn't good enough, as it takes all the danger and excitement out of hashing. Incidentally, someone reported seeing a group of decrepit old pensioners struggling to haul their sorry carcasses over some of them, and getting in a right old muddle. I would have loved to see their struggling, but Baldbrick, Upperskirt, Wears The Soap, Minor Twat, Chapped Lips, Late Cummer and myself never saw the frail old dodderers. Pity.

Thirdly, the nettles just weren't tall enough. Reach my face? Some of them barely made it to chest height! As we hacked our way through the jungle, we tried to keep as quiet as we could - not an easy job, trying to stifle the screams as your arms are ripped open by brambles and hawthorn - so as not to alert the platoon of Japanese soldiers, who had been stranded there since 1945 and who hadn't heard the war was over, to our presence.

Those minor quibbles aside, though, this was top-notch stuff. At the beer stop, Twisted decided to take a few piccies, so it was tallest to the rear, and, as we arranged ourselves, I couldn't help but notice that Motor Gnome kept moving to the back. Now, I usually carry a tape measure so I can calculate the precise length of every hash; today, I forgot, but even without said accessory, I'm pretty sure that MG is not particularly, shall we say, elevated . I concluded that she did not want any photographic evidence of her attendance, just in case Lancashire Constabulary are still in pursuit following her haring debut.

A good trail, good beer, good food and charming company - that's what hashing is all about. Three out of four isn't bad.