No flour at the start? No wonder; there was no start. The hares chose to put the clock back to our days in SH3 of A to B runs, or, as in this case, B to A. A coach was to ferry us to Bookham Station, and indeed eventually did so, just 20 or 25 minutes late.  It was bitterly cold waiting for it, though once we arrived, running the trail warmed us up.  Bookham Common was as muddy as ever at this season, and of course fairly familiar, but thereafter we were in little known and attractive scenery; the element of originality was very welcome.

  11 am today was 26 hours and 39 minutes after this year’s winter solstice; did we get a sense of new life, of a rebirth?  Well, there were indeed young runners with us, two of them schoolboys, which was very welcome. There were also plenty of old codgers, several of them quite incapable of getting back to Leatherhead unaided; Tequil’Over had indeed plans for them, and segregated them from us at the railway station, but I have no idea at all what became of them.  This left your geriatric scribe at the tail of the pack, for a while with Dormouse and Paddy, but the pooch went AWOL, and Dormouse devoted himself to finding him.  Petal and Hash Flash were courteous enough to remain with ‘Arfur Pint and myself, as very much back-markers; when we got back to the Randall Road car park the Circle had just begun, with Chunderos in charge absolving herself of any responsibility for the trail, and Bigfoot, today’s checking chicken, announcing that he would be hare next Sunday.

  Timing?  We began running – if I may use the word – around 10.35, and it was about 1.15 when I was back in the car park.  So 100 minutes; doubtless less than 5 miles.  It seemed to  be expected of me that my report would be vituperative; but who is to blame for a tardy bus company?  Or for shiggy in December?  No, A to B brings back memories, no harm in that; we also recalled Teq’s subjecting us to rivers to swim (ah, those were the days!), and of course his predilection for back checks.  Plenty of those today – including one which had not been marked through….  I assume the front runners just charged ahead and found flour.

  Wenceslas is given credit in the carol for courtesy and generosity; few singing that carol will think “If the forest were open to commoners, the “poor man” would not have to carry his firewood “a good league”.  Christmas is not the only time of year to be generous, and an unlikely season to re-think the structure of society.  But there is an openness of spirit; the usual pyramid, me, family, friends, colleagues and neighbours, and, alas, in many cases, people of my race or nation, can briefly be opened up to include all humanity.  The Ode to Joy, the finest anthem one can think of, has the memorable “Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt”.  Joy makes brothers of everyone alive, including foreigners and immigrants.   [Ed: A bit of stretch here again, courtesy of some “protected characteristics” – All men become brothers under thy gentle wings?]  Hemingway made famous Donne’s words “I am involved in mankind, and any man’s death diminisheth me”, and equally “If a (British!) [Ed: !!!!!] clod be washed away, Europe is the less” Well, Merry Christmas to all our readers, and a very Happy New Year! Which reminds me, did you realise that 2024 has as factors 22 and 23? Or that 2025 is the first perfect square of a year since 1936?

  On On, FRB