Who said of the trail that he set for r*n 930 in October 2008: “I set out at 6pm yesterday evening. You don’t want to know what time I finished”??
Who then said of the trail he set for r*n 987 on 3 Nov 2009 at Cookham Dean: “It was coming down in stair rods when I was laying it: most of the trail’s been washed away”??
Answer? Same bloke who said just before 987’s long/medium/short split:
“I’ve only gone and left the maps in the car, haven’t I?”
Lady Misfortune visits those who are worthy of it, Mick, and, given your en route comment to a fellow hasher that “I couldn’t get my trousers up in time”, she picked a gold medal winner this week.
Ed's aside The start of the hash was enlivened by Helen arriving straight from work in a smart red dress and high heels. It was generally felt that this was a good idea as the high heels would mean she could run through puddles without getting her feet wet.
Had you insisted on keeping to the 27 Oct date reserved for your r*n, you could have dumped the Cookham Dean wash-out on me – thank you, Mick, it’s a pleasure to write the Hash report for such a gentleman.
On the first of many hills, Tom, the human aircraft carrier, steamed past me, whooping with delight. Halting rather more quickly than any naval warship can, Tom presented a gigantic set of thighs for me to dive into head first – the warmest pair of ear muffs ever recorded.
By contrast, Niffer – who now threatens violence if she does not appear in every weekly report – ignored a November temperature free falling to 6º C by flouncing about in her trade mark sleeveless ballet dress. Not for her the doubts that Krysia confided to a fellow harriette “I was not sure what to wear”. Yes, it was your first hash, Krysia, but as a Pole, understand that the English live in houses with leaky plumbing and dodgy wiring. Wear overalls next time and be amazed at the amount of business that comes your way.
Jo was our second Hash virgin whose blond pony tail bobbed away with the front r*nners for most of the trail, well out of earshot of gossip gatherers.
Becky provided our final fashion statement by wrapping herself in coverings normally seen on horses: she redeemed herself however on two counts. Grabbing hold of Ryan at a check back that he was trying to sneak through, she hurled him back down the trail with all the grace and elegance of a top class Russian female shot putter. She also promised to resume wearing the skimpy tops that it has been such a pleasure to view in enlarged format through the bottom of an empty tankard.
Ed's aside: The end of the run was enlivened by Kerry who had been performing strange exertions all the way around (Satanist ic rituals were mentioned as a possible explanation). It transpired that it was in a surprisingly effective to keep her feet dry. Sadly she lost concentration after she had got all the way around and was back to the pub carpark when SPLAS!H - she went straight into the middle of one of the biggest puddles on the entire hash!
Tosca of the month went to Kerry for her security skills. Secreting passports into the working end of an East European table lamp succeeded in foiling the KVD but left Audrey and Tracy with such charred passport photos that UK immigration control has now classified the two of them as North African illegals.
An award should have gone to Toblerone Sam for booking the entire staff (and their dependents) of the Wycliffe Centre to see “A Christmas Carol” – great support, Sam, and every bit as welcome as the crispy chips and Mother’s Pride slices that Mick laid on.
Such treats put to flight the regrets of those who chose the short trail but missed the turkey farm.