A late change of venue, but it seems that everyone got the message and was ready and eager to go.  It was a glorious sunny morning, so why have the hares turned up in their wellies?  The previously advertised venue, Milton village, was apparently surrounded by water that was too deep, but, said Pressganger, at Steventon it was "only just above the ankles, on the whole."  On the hole is quite a bit higher than the ankles, I think you'll find.  Anyway, on out and if anyone was hoping to keep their white trainers clean (Tinkerbell, that's you!) they were lucky today: there was plenty of water to wash off the mud from the shiggy bits. 
Around the back of the pub, through the first water and round to the Causeway.  Before crossing over the main road Wimpey had to sit down and extract a thorn from his foot - or Lemony had to.  Where is an ancient greek when you need one?  There was some conversation about how the houses were leaning but had probably stayed upright for a long time - much the same as the hashers as they slipped and slid through the mud before heading over the allotments. 

A handy regroup at the level crossing where the train driver gave us a hoot as he passed and Big Stiffy was larking about, kidding that the barrier would hit him on the chin when it rose... when it did exactly that!  It didn't quite take his head off, but it was close.  

On on passing the dead centre of the village.  Oh no, wait a minute: Big Stiffy's changed his joke!  It's a dead end now.  Of corpse it is, Stiffy.  On on to a regroup at the farm before the hares sent us on the "Oh no, but it's miiiiiles that way" loop.  The next regroup was on the opposite side of some suspiciously smooth mud.  Despite the best attempts of CS Gas and Hutch to lure unsuspecting hashers across it, only Tinkerbell and Ben the dog fell for it.  That was some lovely, well over the ankle shiggy.  Ben went back in for more.  Tinkerbell didn't.
Around the field and the hares had been saving the best for now.  No wonder they'd worn their wellies.   There was a suggestion that the larger members of the group should lie down and let the ladies bounce across the stomachs - rather like the big red balls of Wipeout!  CS tried to throw Tinkerbell in but Piscine Down came to her rescue. Back to the farm, pausing only to annoy a dog walker whose randy labrador took a fancy to Coco before back into the village and then up the hill into the muddy wood.  From there it was but a short hop, skip and a jump over the stile and the on inn. 

It was a dream of a trail: a wet dream of a trail for most of us.  There's always a silver lining to the wettest winter on record when we wind up with trails such as this.  Marvellous. 

During words CS stood on the bench.  He had been commando in the green shorts and the flash of his .... curdled FBJ's beer.  te shorts went to Rubber Sole for no other reason than CS had secreted them in her bag (what a horrible thought) and she had not commented.  The yellow vests were awarded to Nicola for stretching before the hash and Zorro for flashing his moobs

Then Coco was named.  She is now called Babs after the transvestite cab driver awaiting his operation in The League of Gentlemen.

Hares:  Pressganger, Eric and Ben the bouncy puppy

Hounds:  Hutch, Rubber Sole, B'Cider, Ringer, Tinkerbell, Lemony Snicket, Wimpey, FBJ, Northern Soul, Rubber Sole's Buddy, Nicola, Big Stiffy, Rocket Ronnie, CS, Zorro, Piscine Down, Menstrual, Bootsie and Coco

Date: 9 March 2014
Distance: c4 Miles