Dr Death has an approach to laying a trail all his own.  On today’s run the check circles were few and far between, and the blobs between them equally rare. We reached our furthest point south at 11.58, and yet were back at our start by 12.20. No sign of the hare till we got in; usually we do find him once, observing us run past.

  Well, run.  Nowadays there is a great deal more walking than running.  Belcher started off at an impressive bat, Bonn Bugle certainly runs at times, as does Petal; Le Pro is seldom far from the front.  Kelinchi arrives late almost as often as Atalanta, and certainly runs to catch up.  But most of us are content with a brisk walk; to be sure.  Bigfoot is not, but was not with us today. Nor was Simple, next week’s hare.  One determined walker is Veggie Queen, and she is often near the front; it was she today who correctly deduced that the trail would cross Fairoaks Lane, and take us on relentlessly south, while everyone else carried on checking to the north, as if Dr Death intended a visit to Chessington.  (Yes, you remember, Petal and I took you there last year).
The recent frosts had just ended, so that in places we were trampling on ice, but mostly the terrain was rich in shiggy, so that the GM and Hans der Schwanz could entertain us with a song to this effect at the Circle, where we also sang “Gordon is a moron!”, in honour of a visitor in a befeathered hat [Flasher].  The usual RA, Popeye, appeared only at the Circle, so that Uncle Gerry was the actual RA; the Circle had been delayed while we worried about Twinkletoes, apparently lost, in the company of an entirely absurd small dog and a visitor who detested shiggy.  But they found themselves, or us, or perhaps Captain Webb found them, after taking a monstrous short cut himself.  We have of course run from Coverts Road in the past; there is only one possible start to a trail from there, south over the A3, but this does lead to good hashing territory.  Today Google was telling us that Coverts Road was closed at Vale Road, but in fact we had no problem in arriving and parking in among the cars of the locals.

  There is debate as to whether Prince George should attend a fee-paying school, typically Eton [Ed: it is on their doorstep].  I assume many of you went to such a school, [really?] though probably not Eton; I was sent to a very minor public school, but our children all went to State schools, and have succeeded in life far better than I.  The advantage is that the teachers, being better paid, may be expected to be better teachers; the disadvantages include a much greater probability of bullying [not in these days of equality…], and acquiring a disdain for the lower orders.  Those who live in the Home counties can acquire an RP voice quite easily without an expensive education; it is more difficult elsewhere.  The general public assumes all fee-paying schools to be much the same; my time in the Navy preparing to be an officer, where every one of us had been to a public school, taught me that the cultures are very different. 

For example, Uppingham boys were especially cheerful, Etonians more gentle and courteous than most.  Stowe’s reputation for buggery was already well known [hence the Navy?]. (I am aware that this was many decades ago; my son disagrees with me completely about the Old Etonians he met at university).

  On On, FRB

On on behalf of SH3, celebrating the right to free speech in the 21st century!