Wurzel kindly gave me a lift and we got to the Frog car park by 10:30, it had already stopped raining and it stayed dry for the next four hours. Considering the recent weather, it seemed that the hares, Bolshie and Machinist, must have made a pact with the devil!  We had spotted FRB some 400 yards from the car park looking, fruitlessly, for flour.  The hares were already back and chatting with Tiller, another early bird.  It was a meagre but eager pack of 19 (including the hares and the 3 visitors: Atame*, Hopeless and Caboose, (smaller than my recent WH3 run), that set out in the now dry weather.  The low number was due to the coinciding Barnes “Winter Whoopee Weekend”.

  The start was at the far end of the car park and we were soon heading NW. Now admittedly the area surrounding the pub is a vast building site, on the scale of a New Town but we did run through countryside, not least through the almost completed Mindenhurst Central SANG. A Suitable Alternative Natural Greenspace [sic] is an area of countryside which provides recreational space whilst protecting wildlife with raised paths.  They typically include buffer lakes to contain flooding and removal of the ubiquitous birches and pines, and then replanting with diverse species that should have been growing there in the first place.
There was a case of “The blind leading the blind” when about half way round, that octogenarian pair Tosser & Uncle Gerry turned right, hoping to effect a shortcut. 

  Unbeknownst to them, within about 40m the real trail crossed the Basingstoke canal and bifurcated left for the main trail and right for a shortcut along the towpath.  I and other bonafide short-cutters could see the hapless pair struggling to make their way through the dense woodland and fallen trees on the other side.  At one point, Tosser tried to make his way down to the clearer but sloping canal bank.  Wisely, in my opinion, he desisted and clambered his way back up.  Somehow, they managed to bumble their way through, coming in about 30 minutes after we, sensible short-cutters.  Near the end, under the canal bridge, was some upmarket graffiti.  In New Haw, where the M25 crosses the Wey Navigation, support pillars are decorated with a gallery of such images. Sadly these eventually become defaced by juvenile graffiti but the artists always return to paint more.

  At the circle the GM admonished Ms Bean (yes it is Ms Bean c.f. the SH3 website) for moaning about the forgetting of her recent birthday.  The GM provided a chocolate cake.  [Ed: the true story was that he lost a bet with her!]  The hares were down-downed and the RA then took over.  He first called in FRB for complaining that the hares used sawdust, a la Pis’t’offen Hash.  In fact the hares actually used hamster bedding.  It was pointed out that FRB had, in the past, due to an error in a Danish supermarket previously laid a trail with sugar!  The GM commented that it must have been a sweet trail!  He then picked on Wurzel whom, he said liked to go to the pub in fancy dress and that he once went as a tennis ball and got served immediately.  Everyone groaned! Atalanta was charged with inaccurate calling.  He then wittered on about the Welsh being too infrequently made the butt of jokes (he’d obviously forgotten my limerick about “The girl from Aberystwyth” with which I’ve serenaded Chastity Belt!).  RHUM having Welsh ancestry was called in but a proxy (Petal) had to do.  He explained that “down at the pub” (it seems that all of the RA’s anecdotes originate from there) he asked how many sex partners he’d had.  RHUM started counting but then fell asleep! Ms Bean was down-downed for something or other (?) and probably deserved it!

  The GM declared it to be “No Raffles Day” since the faithful hound was conspicuous by his absence. Spuddy had to do it alone.  Stevie Blunder was also a “No show”.  He was skiing, evidently. Despite threats of attendance at the run (and lack of attendance at the Frog, which is on his long list of hated pubs), there was a distinct lack of Wally [despite choosing theis pub himself on two previous occasions!].

  All in all I found it an enjoyable trail, during which my feet stayed dry. It was about 5km for the short-cutters and 9km for those fit sods!

*Tie me up! c.f. 1989 Pedro Almodóvar film, translated as Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!

OnOn,
Master Bates