Run 911

The Maiden's Head, Whitwell

Sunday, 4 January 2009

Hares: Gorjoyce & The Count

HASHERS: 18  ANKLE BITERS: 5  NEWEES: 1  MUTTS: 2  APRES: 1

The Czech liquor known to H5 as Christmas Pudding In A Bottle was, at 38%, a valuable alcoholic kick-start for the vast majority of a commendably well attended hash on a very cold

[line(s) missing - Archive Ed]

freestyle parking, confused us with a panto announcement (oh, yes she did) and amazed us by claiming what is surely a world record number of birthdays. Before we started.

Start we eventually did, and off toward St Paul's Walden we went. Here the hares must admit to idly gossipping in the Saturday morning sunshine rather than trying to lay a trail which would keep the pack together. Split we became, as long stretches lead to featureless checks, sometimes it has to be said as a result of human intervention – the buggers rubbed the numbers out. But none of this accounts for Shagpile FRBing for a substantial time: some phenomena are just inexplicable.

The various packs wheeled to the west at Stagenhoe and then took a long slog south to the edge of the village and passed it to climb a hill to a water tower – having dispatched Shagpile whose bolt was now shot, with the short cutters. From there an easy jog downhill to the pub.

Now I'm not usually too worried by losing a few hashers on a run as after all we're all grown-ups and, apart from Mekon who thought it was Hitchin, know what Whitwell looks like. But this week we weren't (all grown-ups that is). Far too often Twiglet and Splinter were seen without a trace of Pecker, Mekon had no Splitblox skipping alongside and Ringer was miles away from Legs 11. I must fess up to being relieved to see all united again and nothing more was said. Until of course Team RA ("Team RA, Team RA") couldn't resist awarding a down-down to Ringer for being Legsless.

In the circle Thongo gave a rather obtuse opinion on the quality of the run before Rapid ("Team RA, Team RA") continued the trend of family down-downs by going after Mekon & Son (for confusing the water tower with a hot water tank – a bit harsh methinks because (a) the difference is marginal and (b) they didn't anyway) and the Pecker Family (for practising down-downs).

This run had a very auspicious number and when a stranger from the Middle East turned up and appeared to want to high-jack the hash I was a little worried. But newee-to-us Shuffle Cock showed no inclination to take us off course and was clearly surprised to see our own particular brand of silliness had on this day spread across an age range of over 70 years, encompassed – forgive me for this – all shapes and sizes, and even crossed the species border. Anyway in the hopes of seeing him return we gave Shuffle the FRB award which he at least failed to leave in the pub.

On On to Sandy

The Count, for Gorjoyce and her coat pegs