KVH3 | Kennet Valley Hash House Harriers

“Lovely day for a hash” said Annie as we watched the hurricane force winds driving squalls of torrential rain horizontally across the garden. “Poor Jeremy – nobody except the slightly potty or those training for the SAS will be going hashing on a day like this”. We went of course (as we are slightly potty) and on arrival at the Patriots we were delighted to see 20 enthusiastic runners and walkers in the car park. I was proud of them.

By 11 o’clock the rain had stopped and so Jeremy gave a short practical brief (Five miles for the long, three miles for the short and plenty of wet slippery mud) and we were off down the main street, through the suburbs of Chiseldon and out into that scrubby wooded area that lies between the Calley Arms and the motorway. I was, at this stage, running at the front and going like a train. I should explain that that is because I’ve got this ventolin puffer thing which you breathe in before you run and it stops you getting out of breath. The effect however does not last all that long and so I began to drop back as we ran over the road over the motorway and across a couple of very wet boggy fields towards Coate. Amazingly, the wind eased and the sun came out as we ran around the lake and turned right towards the twirly pedestrian bridge back over the motorway again. I was now at the back with Brian who kindly ran slowly to keep me company and we put the world to rights as we trotted back through a different part of the aforesaid scrubby wooded bit and uphill back to the pub.

The Patriots is a good hashing pub – the landlord welcomes hashers – none of this “you can’t park in the car park as customers might want to park” approach – and the beer is good and there is space for all of us to sit together even though there were twenty odd of us and the pub was busy. The après was lovely with everyone feeling a sense of real achievement after having braved the mud and the weather together. Brian thanked Jeremy for his splendid trail and he had an enthusiastic round of applause as is our custom and nobody seemed to want to go home.

Thanks Jeremy.