The GM introduced the hare at the pre-run circle – a concept he used to despise – but there’s nothing like a reformed sinner….The hare then wittered on about short cuts, gates to events, the sun being in the south (obvs) and the size of roads, none of which made any sense, but we set off anyway.

  Immediately we headed diametrically away from any decent countryside along the main road north where the ABBA Revivalists were meeting – some kind of cult I think – into a housing estate. Here there was a check and a resident shouted at us to shut-up; so clearly they don’t do irony in East Horsley. Then we were back on another main road and I was beginning to regret the one-hour drive to get to the run, but suddenly we mercifully turned-off into the countryside to of the south of the A246. At this point the FRBs disappeared from sight never to be seen again, as a series of easily solved checks didn’t hold them up. Leaders of the FRBs were of course Silent Blunder, as the pack never heard any calling from him, and his trusty side-kick Spud.

  The run was the standard ‘south of the A246 East Horsley variant 1A’ left-handed run, which involves the Lovelace bridges (built 1860 in case you were wondering) and plenty of woods and hills. My GPS clocked it at 4.5 miles. The checking chicken (another concept the current GM used to abhor but appointed one today, possibly as he is a prime candidate to get lost?) did an excellent job. I know this as I had to rely on marked through checks to keep up. We were very grateful for the wooded shade on a pleasantly warm day, a good run and decent parking – other hares please note!

  At the circle, Belcher acted as stand-in for the absent Big Foot and the down-downs were mercifully short apart from a joke which involved a Jesus look-a-like without using our very own Jesus look-a-like: Stevie Blunder. A few visitors were introduced, one of whom was all the way from Weybridge. [Except he was from High Wycombe, but he started with Weybridge Hash when it thought it was the Real Surrey Hash.  The GM’s memory has faded over the last 50 years!]

Then ensued the farce of the moveable feast: set up a table at one end of the carpark, move it to the other end of the carpark for the better shade, then move it back again along with several additional tables found at the other end and cower in the limited shade where we started. I believe this was Master Bates belated birthday vegan feast, he’s 82 + 1 week you know, undoubtedly older by the time you read this.

  Once we had retired to the pub garden reports began to emerge that our Jesus look-a-like was stranded naked apart from a towel in the carpark. Apparently he can walk on water but not rustle-up his clothes from a locked car. Ms Bean had gone off with Spud and the car key to the bar, so reluctantly she went back to rescue him.

  On On, DTT