R*n 323: Forton

I arrived late, Bitter took a photo as proof and I knew the job of scribe was mine.

It was a black night after a day of monsoon rain. The ground was wet enough to cultivate rice. The full moon was hidden behind thick cloud as we set off into the wilds of Forton. Baldbrick and Upperskirt discussed their lack of a head torch. Upperskirt thought Baldbrick had it, Baldbrick thought Upperskirt had brought it. Half way round, Baldbrick found it round his neck. Bitter took a photo as proof, Upperskirt was not impressed.

After so much rain, the fields and paths had become mud baths and the act of running was difficult, it was more like cross country skiing and just as strenuous. Meanwhile Twisted, our other 'hare', was tucked up in a room somewhere doing Pilates at least that was her story. Personally I think she was at singing lessons, she definitely needs them after the din that welcomed us back to the on inn.

At one point we passed a parked caravan, Bitter was very excited by it (it's becoming a variation on his train-spotting and he's clearly just as turned on by it). He took a photo of it so he could show it to Twisted in the privacy of their own home.

The circle was cancelled because our food was ready in the pub, but, I'm sure our RA Baldbrick has a list of Hashers due Down downs. That's if he ever remembers where he's put it.