Now where to begin? Well as I cant actually remember the run so I'll make something up and you'll all read it and remember that it really happened this way...

It was a horrible day, the wind whipping around the gnarled oaks and hawthorns, the slight drizzle slowly but surely drenching us to the bones. As the fair weather adventures curl up in front of their fires with there mulled wine and annoyingly floppy Santa hats, we push our bodies to their physical limits, aching legs, thumping hearts... bloody cold hands! Pink elephants float across the sky... what did I eat last night?

And in the immortal words of Donald Rumsfelt: There are the know unknowns, that is to say the things we know we don't know, then there are the possible unknowns, the things that might not know, and then (of course!) there are the unknown unknowns, that is (obviously) the things we know we don't know.  Yeah good for you, you go back to your smelly little Iowa school house and try, really try for mummy's sake, to grasp some kind of basic understanding of the English language, and then DON'T and I really mean DON'T go and work for Mr G W Bush.

Anyway... Political ranting and ravings aside and as for mention of pink elephants... (Yeah don't even ask).

Oh wait... it's all coming back to me... (screen wobbles into memories)...

It was a cold day when 20 (yes 20!) of our hardcore hashers turned out of their beds to grace our good countryside with their shouts and fanfares... (well if I could use the horn then maybe I would have got a sound out of it!!). The runs started from the Horse and Farrier pub in High Bentham but not before a set of new shoes were spotted and generously filled with beer for the wearer's pleasure. Down over the railway, though the caravan park and on towards the river and the first of 3 wimp/rambo splits. The Rambos followed the river on, passing three walkers and their dog on the opposite bank and 2 weirs until we entered the flied of a horse and her foal. Round to the right of the horses and onto the Greensmithy-low Bentham road. Up this until we reach a sharp left hand corner, where we peel off the road and onto the fields again. A bog greeted us on the other side of the stile... mmm lovely, just what a good hasher can't get enough of. My shoe fell so deeply in love with the bog; it divorced my foot and entered deeply into the viscous mire. Only several attempts to amend our relationship save me from a very painful run. Up and up we climb, meeting the wimps at the first hurdle (stile). On Up to the Greensmithy road and a well-earned beer stop. Then it was a confusing second wimp/rambo split, the Rambos running in circles for 5mins and then following the same trail as the wimps... explanation please! Then next split followed shortly afterwards, with the wimps heading down hill and the rambos following the road to the Greensmithy cross road, then getting thoroughly lost. (We blame it on the hares, the blame it on us, we all blame it on blatantly lazy hashers!)  IN the end tough, after running up the biggest hill we could find 3 or for times, we were back on trail and running for home... via the most scenic route possible! Just what we like! On-On at last over the railway again to the pub, a very good run... if somewhat badly marker in places! 5 virgins grace the circle and are suitably punished for being so stupid! Several other down downs, one to a certain scrotum for not being able to blow a horn! Tut tut!