Run # 762

Sunday 9th April 2006

The Green Man, Stanford

Hares: Flo & Overflo

HASHERS: 31  APRES: 3  NEWIES/RETURNEES: 1  MUTTS: 1

Wordz will appear here soon, won't they Flo? won't they Overflo? ....

.... well perhaps not just yet so let's leave it to the editor who thought it was a smashing run in good conditions although I don't think Pongo was quite so fulsome in his praise but can't remember what word he used with a couple of big falsies which Flo is quite right can henceforth be described as Jordans and attracted lots of runners including a newie for the first time in jonks whose name was something like Duckweed but my memory is going although I do recall she was last running with Harrogate Hash and of course there was a lovely poohsticks stop which primed some competitive instincts in www and a few others so when they went off on a big loop which some hashers approached from the other direction and so there was confusion about which way was the back so that 5 could go to it they actually had a running race which of course WWW won although 5 Baah great to see him gave him a good run for his money but G-String didn't and quite rightly the first two were given down-downs but back to the end of the loop and there was great disappointment when a BJ stop turned out to be a dylsexic Jelly Bean stop but Shagpile did pull his tights back up before the ankle biters arrived to the relief of the hash child protection officer and then we sort of retraced our steps before going through wood and back to the pub which didn't have very good beer as it goes imho and the most remarkable thing was that Capt Haddock was at the start ON-ON Ed

and then, at last the real wordz from the real hairz appeared:

Having consulted the website as every good hasher should I noticed the Wurdz for run No. 762 which I thought was curious considering I hadn't written them yet. Further scrutiny revealed veiled criticism from the editor hinting that they should have been submitted by now, and here's me thinking that hashing was about having a good time with no pressure, wrong again.

The esteemed editor (God bless him, may his shadow never grow less and his camels ever prosper) did such a good job with the wurdz that I would suggest that this impoverished missive be a pale and etiolated adjunct to his verdant and florid prose.

As we have heard, the run started from the car park of the Green Man, a prosaic fact except for the strange phenomenon that occurred just before the circle when White Rabbit hurtling down the road in time honoured fashion completely missed both trees, verge and ditch and ended up, by accident perfectly parked in a bay in the carpark for which feat she received a five hundred run award last week, or was that for something else? Apologies, dear reader, dementia seems to be a little more advanced than I thought, or maybe it's the bottle of Scotch that I just finished.

When we got back from the run two groups of us had booked in for Sunday lunch: BOF, Stallion, Mattheu (sorry for spelling!) and Connor (Matador & Aircon to you ....Ed) on one table and Ward 10, Donut, Donut's brother Les, Pongo, Merlot, Dead Meat, my dear lady wife Flo and myself, Overflo on another. This meal was utterly uneventful apart from the soup being cold (no, it wasn't that funny Italian stuff that has cucumbers in it and smells like cabbage). Also, the chief waiter chappy who, curiously enough, was Italian had a stand up row with one of the waitresses in the middle of the restaurant much to the amusement of the assembled diners who all pretended that they hadn't noticed. And, a cyclone something akin to Hurricane Katrina whistled in making conversation all but impossible for about half an hour though we all attempted to continue unabashed. Interestingly, I was having a deep and meaningful discussion with Ward 10 about what was happening in East Enders, when there was a sudden lull in the cacophony, which was when I found that she was talking about the political situation in Iraq (that girl's got hidden depths). There were a few other small incidents like Donut's brother Les being brought his puddin' but nothing to eat it with and the minor issue that we actually didn't emerge until almost five o'clock by which time we all felt jet lagged. Toward the end Donut got so peed off he strode out to confront the management and skillfully negotiated a 10% refund without even resorting to violence. All in all a pleasant afternoon but, a word of warning; don't go there for Sunday lunch unless you have good company and a lot of time on your hands, I think their service philosophy has been liberally plagiarized from the Serbian war crimes tribunal.

Oh, and by the way, some of us ran a bit as well, but you knew that didn't you.

Hugs

Flo & Overflo xxx

No no (sorry, but you knew I was lysdexic)