The GM duties never rest, not even on a Sunday. Arrive, find a stand-in RA, track down a Checkin’ Chicken, locate a scribe… This week, I managed everything except the last one. With Petal AWOL [What?  I need permission?!], the inevitable dawned on me — I’d be writing this yet again.

  So, what could possibly entice SH3 out of their dens? Glorious sunshine? Check. A crisp 17°C? Perfect. The stunning Surrey Hills? Naturally. And yet, where had all the hashers gone? Uncle Gerry found himself once again astounded by the unpredictability of our lot. A pack of about eight front runners took to the trail, while the rest were either leisurely walkers or those who had turned up for the beer.

  The hare, true to form, sent the front runners upwards—because why not start with a lung-busting climb? “Good use of resources,” noted Fish ‘n Chips dryly. But soon, confusion reigned. Had we stumbled onto the in-trail? Why was the flour so near? A bluff? A double bluff? Then it became clear: the hare had masterfully sent us on a grand loop, while the walkers had been guided the actual way. The only redeeming feature? We lost Wally.  “Good,” celebrated  J Arthur, “perhaps that’ll put an end to the ridiculous emails he keeps sending me.” Atalanta muttered that it was yet another £2 she would not be getting from him now.

  Shortly after, J Arthur claimed he had never run this route before. RHUM was quick to counter, pointing out it was part of a trail he’d set last year. Flash added that elements of it featured in a past Barnes run. But really, at this stage, aren’t all hashes just creative remixes of previous trails?

  As we finally caught up with the walkers, a glimmer of hope emerged—we were surely on the home stretch. But Simple, ever the realist, glanced at his watch. “It’s only 12:00,” he announced. Translation: there was much more to come.

  Fortunately, we had the combined navigational wisdom of Sticky Balls, I Need One (EGH3), and Legolass to guide us—though, as ever, Atalanta remained untouchably ahead.

  At 12:30, we encountered Lord Raleigh lounging on a park bench. Shortly after, we stumbled upon the motley trio of CL, Bodyshop, and Master Bates, a surefire sign that beer was near.

The Circle: A Medley of Celebrations & Sins

  In the circle, we welcomed our visitors above and also James and Colin (nephews to Hans der Schwanz) from the US. Proxy marked a milestone birthday—69—while also eagerly anticipating 74. (Go on, work that one out.)

  The hare was thanked for an excellent trail, lots of flour, a spoon to lay it, minimal tarmac and finding a pub with a big garden.

  Chastity played the JM role admirably, distributing down-downs with great care. “Should I offer the mugs with handles out? Should I wash my hands first?” she asked. I could only stare at her incredulously.

  Meanwhile, Simple unearthed a host of sinners, masterfully weaving tales of mischief, never once allowing truth to hinder a good story.

  And thus, another hash wrapped up—and we could only ask the question, “Where have all the hashers gone?”

  On On, Bonn Bugle