Its a damp and drizzly day in BENTHAM, and we're looking for a car park that is obscured by traffic lights at the far end of town.  A jigging ex GM is misdirecting the traffic in contravention to the traffic lights so we break the law a little and park and a mainly familiar crowd, Atomic Caton is swelling our number by bringing Julie Austin, a virgin hasher, in tow and Gimlet from another hash has found us.

Cyberseptic and Antiseptic arrived a little late.  Then we get the Hash Drunk's (one of our hares) instructions about meeting Pickmeup en route.  This misleads an every hopeful bubbles to expect hot chocolate and whisky en route!

The pace was set by our guest gimlet of Berkshire running back towards the town centre and then down to the river along the road to Slaidburn.  Gimlet is blessed with fine lungs for shouting "on On" ('Berking' loudly perhaps?)

Edward the Confessor appears (as usual) after Lurch had explored the hills at the first check (where our other hare, Pickmeup met us) whilst Wednesday and Alex (does he have a proper name) choose the right way.  Maybe Edward'll become the first re-christened hasher (cum late?).

We are now going up-river.  Soon, after being on the road for about another 150 yards we go onto some large fields with a clear way until we reach a little footbridge.  Is there a check?  No, the trail goes over a stile with a blob of flour on top.  Lovely, I put my hand in it!  Then another blob and then nothing but a field lined by barbed wire in every direction.  Hummmppph!  Hares went all ways.  Cyberseptic and Gimlet went up and failed to find the route.  Lurch risked manhood over the barbed wire and tiny stile along the river.  Forever Blowing and Antiseptic explore the footbridge.  No go.

After standing in the field for about 15 minutes I think it was Lurch who found a "route", but the blob of flour was on the other side of the BARBED wired fence.  Some people were thinking they had to cross the river at this point but thankfully we didn't, though Bubbles went back over the bridge.

Eventually a re-appraisal upwards finds the way.  Soon we're all back on track: a lovely little path up a tiny valley, over a brook, then into someone's back garden.  Soon after we joined onto roads that took us on a return trip to Slaidburn road.  Later we're told than entire loop has been missed by the entire hash (what a waste flour!).

Soon, we're crossing the outward route by the river (once again) and pick up the re-laid trail.  A curious diversion takes us over to the railway station (there are nice pictures there in the windows of platform buildings); and a "vote socialist to save the railway slogan".  Up and down steps like a circuit training course leads us back to Bentham.  The tail enders fail to see the final loop to the car park and arrive back slightly before the "knitting circle".

Now, in the first time of recorded hash running, the beer bucket is not awaiting the desperately thirsty hashers.  This merits some serious down-downs, as does the wasted flour on a route that no-one used, and thwarted expectations too.

Virgin hashers and guests simply for existing

The Confessor and Septics for being late repeatedly

Gimlet again for crossing the crops.

On Inn was the Coach House.