The Runday Shag

Issue 2505

Date:        21 January 2024

Hare:        Dr. Death

Venue:     Claygate

On On:     The Griffin


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. 

The heroic hare

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!

There’s a story behind the dregs picture – almost deleted from the photographer’s phone as once again he was almost accused of perving!

Links to more pictures and higher resolution copies of any included here.  DropboxGoogle drive.

Letter to the Editor - an invitation for you

Dear SH3 friends,

I’d like to extend an invitation to you for my 70th birthday celebration.

Date: Saturday 16th March, 7.30pm-11.45pm.
Carriages at 11.45pm at the latest.
Venue: Newton Tony Memorial Hall SP4 0HF.
(Just over the Hampshire border into Wiltshire.)

Please confirm attendance to Olive Oyl by 28th February for catering purposes.

RSVP to:

Saturday hash at 12 noon, not necessarily from the hall.  Details to follow.

Sunday trail at 11am nearby, exact location TBC.
Sorry we are not able to offer accommodation.  There are a few options below.  Taxi sharing will no doubt be an option, approx. 10 minute journey.

Fairlawn House, Amesbury, Tel: 01980 662103
The George Hotel, Amesbury, Tel: 01980 6221108
The Antrobus Hotel, Amesbury, Tel: 01980 623 163
Travelodge, Amesbury, Tel: 0871 984 6218
Stonehenge Inn, Durrington, Tel: 01722 433 186
Gray Manor Hotel, Cholderton, 01980 629 542


N.B. We totally understand if this is too far off your beaten track and you can’t make it and/or don’t want to make it! 😘

Love, Olive & Popeye

And while we still can...

An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness.

He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn.  When he finished all three, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender says to him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it but it would taste better if you bought one at a time.”

The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers.  One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin.  When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we all used to drink together.”

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar and always drinks the same way.  He orders three pints and drinks the three pints by taking drinks from each of them in turn.

Just after New Years Day, he comes in and orders two pints.

All the other regulars in the bar notice and fall silent.

When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your sad loss.”

The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs.  “Oh, no,” he says, “Everyone is fine. It’s just me……I’m doing Dry January.


Elf & safety

Poor juxtaposition…

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