Our beloved GM (P.B.U.H.) was, unfortunately, unable to attend today’s happy gathering, so yours truly was asked to deputise for him. “Family commitment”, he claimed. Yeah, right. We’ve got you sussed out, mate. Truth is, you threw a hissy fit as soon as you found out that 501 is not a prime number and chucked your toys out of the pram. “Tell them it’s not a prime number”, he instructed me over the phone, thus inadvertently betraying his real reason for going AWOL.

So, there we were on the car park of the White Bull, and it was immediately obvious from the rather meagre turnout that others had also been put off by the lack of primeness. There were, of course, other reasons for non-attendance - White Noise and Off His Trolley had been unable to borrow a dog this week, which meant that, had they been there, they would have been obliged to complete the whole trail with the rest of us – but, ultimately, the divisibility of 501 by 3 and 167 had taken all the joy out of the proceedings. The factor factor, I call it. Even the promise of a lecture by Lurch on “Practical Applications Of The Square Root Of Minus One” failed to lift our spirits and restore the mathematical equilibrium of the meet.

Still, hares Bitter and Twisted were not to be disheartened. “Small but perfectly formed” said Twisted, referring to our group. At least, I think she was referring to our group. Lurch and Morticia having arrived inexplicably early, we made a prompt start, eagerly anticipating all the usual B&T trail features: flat terrain, shallow but disgusting shiggy, waterlogged lanes, rickety stiles and an abundance of waist-high nettles and brambles. Not to mention Twisted’s pro-active haring techniques, including the now obligatory five-second time limit on finding the trail after a check.

No nettles, but plenty of long grass to dampen our socks and sap our strength. Just what is it with B&T – don’t these guys possess a lawnmower? We half expected to find a platoon of Japanese snipers in there who hadn’t heard the was was over. “Has anyone seen a will to live lying around?” enquired Baldbrick wearily. “I seem to have lost mine.” By the way, hares please note: there’s not a great deal of point in laying a check when even the dimmest hasher is likely to suss out the significance of a narrow strip of flattened grass extending across a field!

As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was even a ruddy great hill (well, a slight incline at least) in the middle of the trail. These things don’t occur naturally in this part of the world – B&T must have had it specially constructed. The trail wasn’t quite as lethal as Bitter’s ominous warning had led us to believe (“You’ll have to be dead careful, or you’ll be dead”), and the survival rate was high.

Back to the pub for some good grub and a decent pint or three, with a female solo vocalist to serenade us as we ate. Not exactly worth “douze points”, but things could have been a lot worse – Twisted and Upper Skirt could have done a duet! After the customary post-hash troughing session, a final treat: a ride home with Lurch and Morticia, via a cunning shortcut which took in just about the whole county.

On on to the Black Bull for Wednesday’s full-mooner! White Bull, Black Bull – how’s that for yin and yang then? Pity 502’s an even number, it really takes the fun out of hashing.