Hash 430 – Bathurst Arms @ North Cerney

I’m sure I wasn’t the only one driving toward North Cerney who was delighted to see a break in the clouds……enough blue sky to patch a Dutchman’s trousers. (This saying is derived from Dutch sailors wearing baggy blue breeches and after a storm, the appearance of blue sky indicated better weather if there is enough of it to patch his breeches!)

So we gathered in the dry weather, cautiously optimistic that we had struck lucky and would revert to “it never rains on a Hash”. We welcomed Des back after a long absence (no note with reason why) and Lynn too. The turnout was wonderful considering the weather of late.

Kathy sported a new umbrella, similar to those used by HRH, one of those deep transparent ones so the crowds can still see her. The Queen that is, not Kathy. Brian, who had been “proper poorly” had manfully risen from his sick bed and laid our trail. I was relieved to find he didn’t do the flour bit at the beginning so my OCD was quiescent.

We set off and the first challenge was a hill! We hadn’t even warmed up! But we had the wind at our backs so we soon crested the hill and struck out across a plateau. The wind at our backs turned to wind and needle sharp rain in our faces, ouch. Clearly only a very small tear in the Dutchman’s trousers. But Hashers make the best of things and one of our youngest, Josie was an example to us all and executed a perfect cartwheel in the wind, rain and mud. Oh the joie de vivre of youth.

As we had gone up, we had to come down. We did so through a wooded valley which had the slippiest, steepest path ever, so we roped ourselves together for safety. Navy Mike clearly thought we were dawdling so he and Josie set off and left us all. By now the Queen’s brolly was buggered so no help at all but we regrouped and helped each other navigate the treacherous slope to the bottom. We looked down at what should have been the River Churn babbling toward the village. In its place was a raging torrent which obscured the path in parts and left you wondering where the actual river was.

Once past that we thought we were home and “dry” but no, Brian in his flu induced delirium snuck in another hill. We groaned to the top where we were heartened to see the chimney tops of North Cerney. A gentle descent and we were back. After hot showers and fresh dry clothes we assembled in the pub for the best bit. The gossipy après. Navy Mike thanked the hare, no bags or horn or even a rubber chicken – so short and sweet. I think we should have given Josie a virtual award for her cartwheel mind.

Finally, some interesting information about North Cerney. Forget all the historical stuff and fine architecture etc. North Cerney has a black magic healer who can help with spells to get your ex back, help through divorce, make someone love you and a whole host of other stuff. It all happens in this sleepy corner of England!