To get the maximum benefit and perhaps pleasure from these writings – the reader should think lugubrious – as if Churchill ** had written it and was delivering it. Watch for the dashes and pause before continuing. One day – in the distant future – there may be an Orion historian - who will deliver - selected readings – from ancient dog-eared Gazette.

And – they will indeed - wonder!

I began the day assisting perplexed runners to decipher that curious map purporting to show the course of the race – or should it be the ‘racecourse’. Lots of coloured lines criss-crossed, and gyrated in the appearance of ever decreasing circles. It was up to the marshals to prevent mayhem – provided they had sufficient interpretive skills! I would be presiding over two of the points in this re-engineered Orion 15. A heavy burden lay upon us all!

6 miles & Nora’s Corner (This is not - the end, this was not even – the beginning of the end – but perhaps - this is -the end of the beginning),

It immediately came to mind. This point could be deleted altogether, Yes, Nora – and her corner, as it very well marked anyway. Nora is Ken Jones’s wife, who gave her time and name to this point. I, perhaps unaware of the great changes taken place found this point, adjacent to Gilwell, was now six miles out – and signed to that effect. I could have watched the start, had I fully comprehended my meticulous instructions! I knew this position would be surrounded by thick mud - for which I had taken no precautions (no wellies).

Deletion would - spare any marshal - from the unedifying spectacle - of seeing runners - hunting for their shoes – or - complaining - to incumbent marshals - about the propensity of mud.

By the time I had seen most of the field pass - the once virgin landscape of heavily horse rutted and glutinous mud - had transformed into a milky - chocolaty -confection - warmed by the friction of nearly 400 feet (two per runner) – and may I say – rich in life giving nutrient. But instructions were explicit and writeed down. I was to vacate this spot after 35 minutes, whether all had passed – or not.

True to the Orion spirit - had I not been further engaged – I would myself have stripped - into some nondescript kit – (no wishing to frighten the horses) - to cavort gaily sorry wade sedately - in this forest elixir - whilst the sun still shone.

Whilst there are many benefits – to be derived by communing with muddy lanes – one is not advised to ingest any of it – and certainly not tip head long in to it!

With a deft timing I arrived at Grimston’s Oak (now renamed Bedford Oak) – before Mr. Murphy had arrived. This desolate location had not been trailed to Mr. Broadbent’s liking. I had to agree - this was a cross-country race and competitors should not be mollycoddled by allowing them to avoid hurdling a three-foot high rail at 14 miles!

Familiarizing myself with Button Seed crossing and anxious redeem lost credibility (naughty me had forgotten my bib). I stumbled across yet another diabolical hazard. That same sun which had so warmed Nora’s Corner - was now dazzling all who approached. I relocated to ensure Quin Broadbent’s precise instructions were carried out - to the letter. Every runner would be steered through the ditch without deviation – on pain of disqualification. Every passing runner would have the opportunity to get a good boot full, before the finish.

The End

As the sun dipped below the tree line - my crocodilian frame went automatically into semi-hibernation. I managed to gain warmth and comfort before ceasing up completely. At the end of the day I had survived – certain in the knowledge that I would return next year – should I be invited.