Rutland Red Hatters’ Car Treasure Hunt

My account of last night’s Hoot might not tally with others, but for what it’s worth, here’s what Menopausal Morcott got up to!

Lady Jane de Willoughby Wordsmith

A FAB TIME WAS HAD BY ALL who mustered for the Car Treasure Hunt, with teams of 3 or 4 having a staggered start from the Horse and Jockey in Manton, armed with the Queen’s fiendish quiz-come-directions and little more than a wing and a prayer (and possibly a map).

I apologise up-front to Lady Scarlet Lupper and Lady Davina for getting carried away and throwing them round Rutland corners at speed, despite Tessa’s instructions IT’S NOT A RACE.  Did we read all the notes through to the end, as all sensible girls should? Did we ‘eck. Thus it was that we went off on a wild goose chase at question 4, adding useless miles (and losing time) only to end up back where we started.

The quiz route took us to Lyndon, Pilton (some of us), Bisbrooke, Lyddington and – since by this time we were lost – Harringworth.  We went to Harringworth because I was going too fast for Davina’s direction/clue-reading and therefore overshot the left turn in Lyddington.  But we turned around and sped back once we’d discovered our error.  By this time Tricia was beginning to feel a bit queasy in the back, and who could blame her?

The trail took us to Seaton, and to the Last Lonely Layby where the Holy Grail – otherwise known as the Purple Pouch – was waiting for us.  We knew that inside the Purple Pouch was the final clue and directions to Supper.  That was a huge incentive, as it was by now a bit dusky and chilly…

Could we find the Purple Pouch? Of course not. Trusting souls that we are, we imagined we’d be able to see it ‘hidden’ somewhere in plain sight.  We forgot what a devious mind our Queen has, and that she’d use the most ridiculous hiding place.  And so it was, I blush to admit it, that we had to rely on another team to share the hiding place with us, though at least we had worked out the secret access code ourselves, based on the answers to the quiz questions we’d solved along the route.

Eventually, we did make it to Cider Sue’s amazing house where a fantastic spread awaited us: a gorgeous hot buffet followed by indulgent puds. And wine. Queen Tess had even made car-shaped cake-pops dipped in chocolate!

The results of the treasure hunt were revealed and Menopausal Morcott were NOT last (but only just). I apologise to my team-mates for shouting at them and making them car sick.  I did try to damp down my competitive spirit, but failed miserably.  I blame my hormones.

Huge thanks to Queen Tess of the P’Urplefrills for the quiz/hunt and organisation.  And thank you to Cider Sue for allowing her home to be invaded.  Sorry I didn’t stay to do the washing up: all the excitement had been too much for me and my long-suffering team mates decided it was past my bed-time.

 

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