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1954 - Sun 03 Nov 2019 - Potarch - Hare: Shaky - Scribe: Boston

Aberdeen Hash House Harriers

Run #1954

Sunday 3rd Nov 2019

OnOn: Green Park, Potarch

Hare: Shaky

Scribe: Boston

As always, each Sunday during the winter season offers another chapter in my exercise routine, often in the company of canine hash stalwarts such as Sherlock, Rolo, Tia, & Roxy. Our arrival at the OnOn coincided with the spectacle of More Butt eagerly gulping down a mug of light refreshments – ostensibly the first of a package of measures designed to sustain her though the stressful business of packing-up house and family, in preparation for seeking out new hash pastures.

A goodly turnout of sometimes able bodied (but often merely bodied) hashers had assembled in the intermittent drizzle, and in keeping with the seasonal theme, the car park was teeming with witches and wizards. A chief wizard was expounding on the hitherto unsuspected complexities of backchecks. Then, before unleashing the pack into nearby Sluie Woods, the hare, freshly into his retirement, advised everyone that the trail would prove long and arduous.

The slippery conditions underfoot soon brought down Drillbit & More Butt (although in the latter case blood alcohol level was a mitigating factor). Barely minutes into the purportedly lengthy hash, the majority of the multitude found themselves congregating at the beer check - a sure sign of a monumental cock-up. Fortunately, reversing our direction brought us back to a frantic hare, who was able to ‘help’ everyone find the ‘correct’ flour. This soon led us to a dodgy wooden bridge traversing a stream. Glasgow, now almost recovered from her recent falling-off-a-log ordeal was spooked, but fortunately Sir Deadmund Hillary was at hand to assist (as well he might, given the lavish attention and other ‘treats’ he has been receiving on account of his pending birthday).

We’re well used to Drillbit zooming about on his e-bike, but today it was Muff Diver’s turn to steam off ahead of the pack on two wheels. He sheepishly justified this transgression as necessary on account of a painful foot injury. Certainly, given the standard of footwork exhibited at the previous evening’s Midmar Ceilidh, there is a strong possibility that whilst blustering through the Military Two-step some of his step-kicks went badly wrong. Fifi too, was letting the bike take the strain, despite that her alleged knee complaint had not detracted from her exuberance at the aforementioned ceilidh. As befits a faithful companion I spent much of the hash accompanying her on the out-and-return journey along the forest track towards Craiglash Quarry.

Sweeties were available for those who ventured deep into the forest and stumbled upon the sacrificial Warlock Stone. At this point (another) shower intruded, and possibly in response to Wee Willie’s claims of having lost the will to continue, Shaky talked of a shortcut.

Even the die-hards failed to discover the washed out loop up to the top of nearby Sluie Hill, and trundled past Sluie Loch instead, until at last they stumbled upon the Beer Check, which was discovered to still be exactly where they had left it. At this juncture Shaky confided that having yesterday stashed the beverages behind a random rock near some random trees he had been unable to locate it this morning. Fortunately, the hash rose to the challenge, and finding the elusive rock some 40 metres distant from the check, all was forgiven.

When the remnants of the hash reconvened in the car park nearly 2-1/2 hours after setting out, Twizzle slipped into his stride and meted out some down downs:

·      T Rex - something to do with a committee meeting giving him indigestion.

·      JC for running without his fashionable wide brimmed pointy hat.

·      Tonto for running in his fashionable wide brimmed pointy hat (which promptly metamorphosed into a witch’s tit, laden with best bitter!).

·       Sir Deadmund Hillary for his part in prematurely directing everyone to the beer check when it should have been obvious that the hare did not intend those particular spots of flour to be followed until much later. Also, for falsely accusing the off-road drivers of purloining our beer.

·       Wee Willie for losing the will to continue.

·      Smiler for going overboard with the face paint (or possibly not removing yesterday’s make-up).

·      Barbarella for misleading a Harriette. Having misplaced her spectacles at a recent Hash, Tickle At Sunrise sensibly checked with her lift provider to confirm that they had not simply been left in his car. After lashing out £130 for a replacement pair, she unearthed her ‘lost’ glasses the following week from amongst the detritus cluttering-up Barbarella’s car.

·         Hippo & Little Shit for their impression of Tweedledum & Tweedledee

·         Golden Shower on account of sporting an exemplarily clean hash waterproof top.

·         Fifi accused of simply turning up for the circle – however since Twizzle was mistaken in this it resulted in a rebound.

·         Biggles for being here (obviously the RA’s inventiveness was fast fading by now . . . . perhaps the effect of the rebound Down Down?)

·        Shaky for arranging less than desirable weather, losing the beer, his phone, car keys, Not Dot, Roger-me-More, etc

·        Aforementioned Not Dot & Roger-me-More for eventually thwarting the hare’s best endeavours to lose them.

The circle drew to a close as we were re-joined by the coffee club members, and talk of guzzling to be had at Scott Skinners reminded me of my own hunger. Only last week I had managed to feast on some of the hares unused flour, but this week Shaky had proven to be a tight cookie. However, espying that the kindly T-Rex Cock was distributing chewy treats to some of my 4-legged acquaintances I promptly frisked over and made my presence obvious. Alas, my intervention proved fruitless (biscuitless?), and I was left to watch as Sherlock devoured the last morsels. Dejected, I slunk off back to the car – it’s a dog’s life on the hash.

Reminiscences brought to you by Boston

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