| Our first truly Autumnal hash of the year, and the sun was setting in the sky. Or was it Rubbery in his yellow t-shirt? After getting pissed on by Spot the dog and a quick game of Pass The Pants with Barbie, fresh from the Labour conference, we were off.
I’d like to say we disappeared into the sunset, but it was in fact the opposite direction. Nevertheless, it was glorious. I trotted with Spotty Botty and Badger for a while, but I couldn’t keep up with those speedsters, so dropped back into the lovely knitting circle whilst Spotty became an FRB and did all the short checks.
(Goolie was briefly astonished that Ging-Gang might have made hash history and done one, but turns out she didn’t) Doubt was cast on Spotty’s ability to lead us when she expressed delight at the beauty of the sun when it was by now, in fact, the full moon. And it wasn’t Rubbery’s before you ask. Whatever celestial body it was, it wasn’t bright enough to prevent Running Late and Willy Waiver from mistaking a herd of cows for a wall.
Back in the pub, it was revealed that new hasher Norman had turned down the opportunity of a hot tub and massage to join us on tonights’ hash. Damned fool!
We sang Happy Birthday to Knockers in traditional hash fashion and a newby hasher was named ‘Badcock’.
Down downs to them and also to hares Morticia and Gomez (always love their trails), Barbie for being in labour, and I think to Rock Hard Stiffy because he has a face?
On On to Packhorse, South Brent! |
