Scribes 2004

RUN 1159

Hares: Twizzle & Gusset

Location: Hazlehead Park

26th December 2004

Scribe: Sergio

1159 - Boxing Day in the Snaaaaaaaaaa

Yes, we had a white Christmas, and the youngsters, and some not-so youngsters were taking advantage of the white stuff at every opportunity. After the usual meeting and greetings, stand-in GM Harley called us to order, stand-in RA Aids awarded pre-run down-downs to Lights Out and One Foot for cycling and running to the start of the run, and Twizzle as chief hare for the day gave us the usual briefing we were off!

Well, sort of..... after 800 yards straight down the main drag we were called back – false trail. (Fifi just loved that bit!). We wound our way through the park, breaking check after check until the footy pitches. Some went to the right of the pitches, some went straight across and some went to the left. We were all wrong. One of those cases when each individual knew that THEY weren't on flour but assumed that one of the other groups must be....

No - the hare had to give us a steer - back the way we had come (again!) and off in the opposite direction. Running back I heard from Aids that the right hand group had discovered the beer check only to be fought off by Gusset and Piss Poor - we had to complete the trail before we could have a sip. Heartless bitches - and this a supposed time of good will to all too! Better bitches than witches though, but I digress.

Across the No. 2 course we went, and back down to the Clubhouse, awarded "worst On Inn - ever!” by Olymprick as we went past. He should know – he organised it...

Then (and imagine my surprise) the run started "for real”! With Hippo and Drillbit leading the way we were off round the outside of the No. 1 course on nice trails under the trees. I ran along with More Butt and One Foot. Bin Laden, Lights Out, T Rex Cock and Lifeboats were never far away either, but most of the rest were nowhere to be seen. We went round the No. 1 course all the way to the 12th hole where we peeled off and went across the No. 2 course again before hitting some nice trails in the woods that went on and on and on until, as if by magic we hit the beer check once more.

Much needed cold beers and Christmas cake were handed out, Drillbit took some group photos and we walked back to the cars, where Little Shit and Sharnie were handing out their own brand of gluvine, and Lifeboats was handing out her own very special chocolate treats!!

It was far too cold to keep a record of the down-downs - there were quite a few of them - those I can remember include

Lifeboats (for her treats),

Drillbit (for being given a vibrating razor),

Olymprick, Hippo, Twizzle (hare), Gusset and Piss Poor (rotweilers!) and last, and probably least

Lights Out was awarded an old AH3 shirt for hash shit! Can't remember why but I'm sure it was well deserved!

Finally, a select few went and defrosted in the Dutch Mill - Penguin, Drillbit, Olymprick, Piss Poor, Lights Out, One Foot and myself. A good laugh, a few ales and a rather nice impromptu picnic took us through until the early evening!

Hash Scribe for run 1158

19th Dec 2004

It's that drunken time of year again

When Christmas has arrived.

The last thing that I need right now

Is to be asked to be scribe.

My memory is failing,

my eyes are all a blur,

me head it thumps,

my stomach heaves,

at this festive time of year

A hash after a party,

can't be a good idea

It's not the freezing rivers to cross,

But being sick I fear

But what a great hash bash

Thanks go to all involved!

I'm sure I'll remember more of it

Once my Rennies have dissolved.

And the run itself a great success

That led to Dutch Caps cottage

What better way to reward the hash

Than with lots of nice hot sausage!

Happy Christmas to you all!

Love Fireflaps x

Run 1156

5th December 2004

It was sunny and 8° at Portlethen as about 30 enthusiasts turned up at the railway station car park for the weekly social dash around the north-east countryside. Or so we thought.

Farmer called the circle to order promptly at 11am. He was very coy about his absence from last week's run, claiming he was in London on business. However a school of thought within the assembled group unfairly put about the thought that he may have been sulking in maison Giles in Aberdeen following a certain football result (the funny shaped ball type) against our Antipodean cousins. Whatever.

Following the normal feet shuffling and avoidance of eye contact, yours truly was nominated by Farmer as scribe and handed the silver tooteroo.

Tracey was introduced as a new runner - welcome Tracey, and we hope the subsequent activity on the run won't stop you from returning for more.

As the scribe was organising pen & paper,

Fireflaps was given a pre-run down down for running a doggie something service. At £8 an hour it was either somewhat expensive if you had a dog or bloody cheap if you didn't, but the gist of it was lost on the scribe in his search for the tools for the job.

Then we were off. Sonic the hare obviously carried a great deal of civic pride for Portlethen despite him living in Portlethen Village and not in the sprawl up the road. We followed tar then concrete then tar again. Tooted the horn plenty to wake up the suburbanites from their well-earned Sunday morning leisure activities, even met some outside washing the car. There were numerous well planned checks to bring the pack together although one people or two people unwittingly ran the course backwards at this stage, only realising the error of their ways as they met the pack leaders (including wired-up Watsoff) heading in the opposite direction. So on we went o’er tar and concrete, the only concession to soft running being the occasional shortcut onto manicured grass and the associated dog turds. Eventually we came to a path through some shiggie and scratchy undergrowth which looked promising but only brought us back to tarred footpaths and commuter boxes again. The only entertainment was a certain hash couple celebrating their 6-month wedding anniversary by having a wee cuddle at a checkpoint.

On we went and after fully 50 minutes came to what looked like a checkpoint leading to the countryside. But no - the obvious choice was wrong and there was a further 500 metres or so of suburbia before finally breaking the bond, going under the railway and being surrounded on both sides by fields. Bliss! - Although still trampling along the hard stuff. After a while, along to the left some runners were spotted at a distance coming out of some woods, led by Tonto. Goodness knows which false trail led them there.

After a mile or so we eventually got on to a farm track with organic grass and dog-free shiggy which led towards the distant sea. At the bottom the obvious path was down to the beach to a lovely bay with a natural stone picnic table and a wonderful view of May Craig rock. Sonic you've got it right for once - then around the rocky headland there was a back check, however it has to be one of the more scenic back checks this year and there were very few complaints. Back up to the cliff top (mind the drop) where the scribe and one or two others were forced to join the back markers by listening to a sorry tale of shagging the boss and why not to shop at a certain furniture chain. Apparently there are graphic details on file somewhere, however Fireflaps thinks they are too big to fit into an envelope and doesn't know how to e-mail them to AH3. This kept at least a third of the pack back lusting for details. I was merely the press reporter, professional interest & all that.

Along the cliff top towards Portlethen Village, past a scenic bay with fishing boats pulled up on the shingle and a cableway to get the catch up the cliff, when we came across two cars with open boots. Yeahh!! - beer check at long last, but where's the crowd? Turns out they were a party of sea anglers who thought they were the only ones mad enough to be there at that time on a Sunday. However a couple of hundred metres further along there was Sonic & Thrupennies place and the welcome beer stop.

From the beer stop it was a kilometre or so climb & descent back to the start and Pig Iron's gluhwein, always the highlight of a winter run. At the post-mortem it would appear that a few runners fell for Sonic's big loop including, deliciously, our very own permanent short-cutters Harley & Farmer. Watsoff also ran the loop and his GPS-based Timex watch says that he did 7.62 miles. Or was that kilometres Willie??

The post run circle saw the usual culprits getting down-downs: -

• J.C. for not submitting last week's hash sheet. Rumour has it that broadband doesn't extend to his Remington. –

• Goat Wrestler for some article in the Times (Hashers read the Times?) about buying/selling/billy/nanny goats. I'm sure Farmer makes this sort of thing up! –

• Watsoff for another newspaper article about 60yr-olds fixing snail races with sugar and having to suck the sugar out of them, some as big as 10-inches. (Not sure if I should be writing this) –

• Lights Out for being late despite him knowing where Portlethen is and went to school there. Briefly, I'm told. He was seen riding the springy bird on the hash, one worries about him sometimes. Reason for being late was that his printer ran out of ink - I mean to say!!! –

• Sonso for being an idiot. Wait for Olymprick says he at the circle. Olymprick wasn't here today, maybe just the thought of his pies Sonso?

• Willie got his fourth 60th birthday down-down, this time for being the proud possessor of a GPS-driven pedometer. All that free beer and a bus pass (sorry – Aberdeen Citizen's card)

• Eggfoo for feeling Tonto's little hole, but wanting a big one. Anyway an infrequent runner deserving a down-down. Nice to meet you Eggfoo. –

• One Liner for disappearing to the bog well into last Friday's piss-up and playing with his mobile. When the search party found him an hour later he had managed to delete all his contacts.

• And of course Sonic the hare. An excellent run and it was worthwhile you & Thruppennies doing the naked inverted rain dance the night before to get the weather we got.

Finally the raffle. Apparently Olymprick the arch-fiddler won violin lessons (not sure about that one). JC for sure won a bottle of wine.

On-On Goat Wrestler?

Run 1154

Hares - Lights-out / Harley

Honorary Scribe and Hash Hornblower - Threadbare

Honorary Wimps - Susie, Silver and the rest of the girlies

Snow, hail, sleet, rain, cold, trench-foot, the retreat from Moscow in 1812 was a pretty sad affair with a once proud army reduced to rags heading home. The Hash convincingly re-enacted much of this on Run 1154 at Cruden Bay last Sunday. Some hashers took it to extremes by turning up bare-legged (Tonto) or bare-armed (Goat Wrestler) just to make a point (not sure what the point was) and got a pre-run down down for their troubles.

This has to have been the coldest run of the century - even the Hash Horn quickly wilted in the cold and despite serious blowing only a plaintive squawk emerged.

The route was an interesting one and - in fairness - well laid. First, along the beach and to the harbour, and then a precarious clamber up the sea-cliffs - led by Farmer (too cold to go off trail for once). Then, on to Slains Castle where a prolonged inspection of the ruins allowed some shelter from the wind. After this, the worst part - down to a gully and through a freezing river. Black mark for lack of valour goes to Sanso for hiding behind the girlies when the snow-balls flew. Then on through Slains policies led by Trouser-shredder and Canna-be-Arsed. After this the run meandered through housing estates and building sites - red flour blending nicely with the red soil. Some pretty mean back-checks were encountered with Little Shit and Lone Ranger ensuring that all fully enjoyed them. Then on to the golf course with Cocksin at the forefront where we reached the beer check. A quick beer and then back to the start. And where were the walkie-talkies - were they like dutiful Josephines awaiting the return of their loved ones - no they had beat a hasty retreat themselves to the Kilmarnock Inn.

Huge gratitude to Stainless and Pig Iron for the gluwein - the best bit of the day, and then the down downs began –

• Sanso for being turn-coat and supporting South Africa,

• Little Shlt for becoming Big Shlt after sledging on his chest over a dog turd,

• Trouser Shredder for the rugby result and the return of the Irish jersey, and of course

• Lights-out and Harley.

• Star of the day then appeared –

• T. Rex Cock claiming to have started 10 minutes behind everyone but looking much to warm to be believed - where is that Hash Shirt?

HASH RUN 1153

14TH NOVEMBER 2004

HARES: LIFEBOATS & COCKSIN

VENUE: HILL OF FAYRE

This week's hash started from a farmyard at the foot of the Hill of Fayre. The turn-out was good requiring Mandy to direct parking. What a shambles! The parking resembled a pile-up on the M25. Still, everybody managed to park without blocking the farm and the circle was called to attention by the RA. I was standing looking down and wondering if I'd ever see my feet again when the RA barked out my name as scribe and thrust a horn in my hand. I thought the Yanks had rid the world of tyrants. How wrong I was.

In line with the AH3 tradition, a minute's silence was observed for Remembrance Day. Then it was on to the pre-hash awards. Two harriettes Stiffy and One Foot got T-shirts for having completed 10 runs. This is a new ploy by the committee to encourage new runners to keep hashing. Seems to be working. It was then over to the hares who gave the usual lies about what to expect and off we all went.

The trial led up the farm track and into the woods. Good checks. Kept most of the pack together and we eventually started the long steep climb up the Hill of Fayre.

According to probably the only educated hasher, the Hill of Fayre was the scene of a great battle between the Scots and the Scots - who else! How they could have fought after climbing that hill is beyond me. Poor Drill Bit nearly gave up half-way up. What a pathetic sight of Drill Bit lying in the heather claiming to be too stiff to continue. Luckily, once the top was reached it was all downhill to the beer check and home.

The hares did us proud providing a Dutch treat of smoked raw ham and apple pie. It went well with the mulled wine. Many thanks.

The circle started with a lot of bullshit. Not from the stirks nearbye but from the RA. After all who would give the hash horn to an OAP, only an unfeeling RA. Age Concern has been informed!

On Downs went to Orretta and Sonic for some misbehaviour in Manchester. Not together we hope. Then One Liner bot an On Down for being on time and Olymprick for being late. Fireflaps and Threadbare got On Downs for misbehaving and Wats Off was given an On Down for turning up in socks without holes. Definitely a first! Hillary got an On Down over supporting Aberdeen Football Club along with Mr Volvo. They both should be certified. Finally, the hares got On Downs for the run.

Verdict: A really good run in a great area. Weather was kind and the after-run food and drinks went down very well. Many thanks to the hares.

ON! ON!

Scribe: White Trash

Run 1152 - Inchmarlo, Drillbit

My fault of course, I hadn't been to the Hash under new management - the laissez faire democracy of the past two years under Fifi has clearly been superseded by a far more ominous authoritarian regime. Not without plus points - we do have a very full hare line with regular naming and shaming of those tardy to offer. We also have a host of social events with a good turnout of the press ganged, though the call for two more “volunteers” for the Xmas lunch was somewhat threatening - just who is on the menu. And the RA, very erudite, imaginative, and wouldn't she look great in jackboots. But I digress, my complaint is with the Obergruppenfarmer himself - and now I am already labelled for next week’s humiliation by daring to suggest a complaint. It was OG Farmer who in his egotistical mania for his own voice, having asked to see new runners, immediately proceeded to the next business - appointing a scribe - without paying attention to the small boy - one Christopher - who wished to have his moment of fame, of welcome into our gentle family group. I tried to get attention drawn to him, but oh what cruel fate, my gesticulations were wilfully misinterpreted as an offer to scribe.

Welcome Christopher, may the new generation see a way to ultimately overthrow the dictatorship of the aged, before too many more senior moments - more of which later.

Pre run Down Down of note as White Trash completes 350 run's with AH3.

Our hare then mumbled and shuffled his feet, and we were off, in a rather desultory manner.

An excellent run. Drillbit always pays attention to the recce's. On this occasion he had almost done enough prep work to link together fine open running with a series of deer paths, rabbit runs and dense thickets - unfortunately he didn't have time to fit in the open running bits. Good effort though. I do think we should return to these woods for one of those end of the summer Monday evening, did-anyone-bring-a-torch run’s. I didn't see much of the pack, making a number of excellent choices at checks, and accidentally running a little faster than the average hasher, amazing how one gets out of condition after missing a few runs. I am sure I will be able to adjust my pace for the next time.

So to the circle, and many tales:

• Iron (nae) Knickers for putting up with incessant moaning, from our beloved leader

• Homo Indonesias Penguinars preserved for 18000 years on a special diet of other folks veggies - a streak of the far right in our leadership to punish a minority species

• One Liner, who was seen to be training at intervals on the hash.

• Hippo, Goat Wrestler (and others not mentioned) who in speeding through the forest, racing, fell a over t.

• Little Shit for services to journalism in the new regime - falling in with the dictat that the truth should not be allowed to get in the way of a good story.

Further blatant discrimination in the form of age-ism as the following Old Men were singled out for senior moments:

• Aids - who in the venerable tradition of hashers has proved that he can only break sweat on the run, that training between hashes really is a BAD thing;

• Tonto for following a tradition of three generations in putting a pen behind his ear;

• Wotzoff for warming his bones, or was he displaying his plumage in search of a mate, good hash practise; and

• Hippo for ... well a real senior moment in the pool.

• Now Aids did have a senior moment on the run too - he was seen to take three attempts at getting over a gate, first left leg, then right leg which he lifted onto the gate, and finally walking round.....

It will come to us all. And the RA went on, and on and on:

• Liitle Shit again

• All Because because he didn't have it all Sanso for talking Lifeboats for shameless behaviour

• And T Shredder for something quite obscene

that's all for me. ONON Tonto

AH3 # 1151

Sunday 31st October 2004

Hares: Sans'O and Stiffie

OnOn: Duff's Hill, Banchory Devenick. N0923994

OnInn: Cottar House, Wedderhill, Blairs

Hands up those who got up an hour too early and forgot to reset their clock!

Q: What's the difference between a scouser and a broken clock?

A: Even a broken clock is right twice a day!

Yep, I was one of them! It did have a plus point though, I got to see Match of the Day.....

Q. "What have Liverpool FC and a three pin plug got in common?"

A. "They’re both useless in Europe."

Blue skies and a soggy wet morning, not something that brings Halloween to mind. There were lots of orange T-shirts and scary outfits. After turning up last again, Struth charged across the car park with two large orange pumpkins tightly clutched to her chest. A very impressive sight! It took a while to guess that the hasher with a black hood, with a white open mouthed face freely flowing bright red blood was actually Trouser Shredder!

Farmer was trying hard not to call the pack to order, just in case the hare might decide to turn up! Unfortunately for us he did and it soon became clear why he was late. Comments like, “the walkie talkies will have no problem keeping up” was another pre hash clue.

Shirley Valentine took the hash by the scruff of the neck and chastised those not dressed for the occasion. Poor old Numbskull, just back from a broken leg and downed downed for wearing his usual grey track suit. No orange, just being old and ugly was not enough to let him get away with it. Pig Iron narrowly escaped with the excuse that he had an orange appendage, but was embarrassed to show anyone. He did present evidence in the shape of two empty bags of Cheesy Wotsits and a couple of mucky mags!

Honk, honk - On on and off we set back towards the dual carriageway for a game of chicken. Honk, honk the trail veered left and crossed a rutted field, a deep slippy trench and then up into residential land. At this point I was running alongside Drillbit and a rottweiler jumped out at us. Drillbit ripped a plank of wood from a fence, forced it into the dog's collar, twisted it, and broke the dog's neck. I thought I'd write this up for the Hashsheet, so I said I'd write, "Mancunian saves friend from vicious animal." Drillbit said "I'm not a Mancunian, I'm from Liverpool." So......... "Scouse b*****d kills family pet". Honk, honk.....

Honk, honk..... There were numerous ruts and barbly fences to cross, this gave One Foot, dressed as the wicked witch, lots of ample opportunity to give us all a glimpse of slender thigh, much appreciated by Sergio.... Honk, honk.

Q: What do you call a scouser in a suit?

A: The accused!

Honk, honk! Keeping your footing when its slippy proved to be a big problem for Goat Wrestler, hairy *rse over t*t is not a pretty sight, he must be running out of blood by now! Then just before the beer check Sonic managed to liberate Numbskull's front wheel from his bike and take it for a long walk........Honk, honk....

Q: If you see a scouser on a bike, why should you never swerve to hit him... ?

A: It might be your bike...

Honk, honk..... The beer was found in the trees, and the amazing thing was Lifeboats was already there! She was ecstatic that she was first to the beer check! Down downed for that one, poor lass! Honk honk......

At the end of the run Sans'Os visitors had gone missing and this is the description he gave of them! Lisa - little girl with blond/red hair and the thick glasses - from Houston Rodney - her husband with the long brown hair (an Architect) - Houston Curtis - husband of Joyce with the grey hair - Kansas. Joyce - sister of Lisa with the blond hair - Kansas

When we arrive at the hash carpark, the hash generally parks their cars, which we did, a natural thing to do!....... Unfortunately a lorry driver had left his trailer in the middle. Sans'O was blocking it in on one side, JC on the other and Olymprick on the other....All their car keys were with their respective partners!!!!!! As you might have guessed they were all lost! No need to worry though, All Because came to the rescue, the man who has everything even had keys that fitted Sans'O's car...... If you need a lift home one night this is the man to get you the car to do it in!

Shirley Valentine called the circle and was promptly pushed out the way by Farmer, he who must be obeyed! A long story about inflatable teeth and being rescued by an inflatable animal, can only assume that was Coxin. Up shot was Lifeboats took the down down and swallowed it all like all good women should!

Then happy birthday to Shirley Valentine, not a day over 21!!!!! Sonic had managed to prizes Cinders out of a pair of dancing shoes, which he looked the part in, they complimented the champagne cork hanging out of his neck.

That was the end of my circle 'cause the GM hadn't given me a scribe kit and I had to remember all this! Off back to Orietta and Sans'O 's pad for some excellent hospitality, great lasagna and pudding, can't spell the real name! Thanks to them for a lot of hard work,

OnOn to next weeks hash. Little Sh*t

Hash # 1150

When: 24th October 2004

Where: Millstone Hill (Donview Car Park)

Hare: Mad Cyclist

A respectable turnout, given the dreich Aberdeenshire drizzle. Knowing that parking would be tight I arrived early (fat lot of good that did when it came to choosing the scribe) - no sign of the hare who was obviously out re-laying the trail. Ten past eleven and still no sign of the hare, so after a pre-run down down to:

Sans O for his 100th run,

Off we went looking for flour.

With most of the flour washed out, and no hare in sight the pack laboured to break the first few checks. Guaranteed, we were going to head up the hill at some point but not before the trail appeared to cross itself several times in a bizarre figure-of-eight. Or maybe it didn't, but as it was hard to string together more than two spots of flour it was quite easy to make up your own trail.

After about 30 mins Mad Cyclist was spotted in the undergrowth, urging the pack to follow him back down the hill. Well, that was the last we saw of them for about an hour. Following the lead of Penguin and Farmer, I headed off uphill along with Stainless, White Trash, Hilary, and Lifeboats. After ignoring a rather obvious backcheck, a straightforward trudge upwards followed. At one point I thought we had caught the pack but it turned out to be a group of geriatric ramblers (hard to tell the difference I know!) Seemed like a miserable bunch of sods anyhow, though who wouldn't be in this weather. By instinct more than any effort to follow trail we made our way through the mist to the summit, by which point I was thoroughly confused even though I've been up Millstone fifty times or more. Luckily Sir (how did he get here?) was on hand to point us in the right direction i.e. straight downhill.

Ten minutes slip-sliding our way back down led to a rather eclectic beer check - Harley and Twizzle had made it there before us which meant they got first crack at such treats as a bottle of Blue Nun and 10 year old scotch. With such goodies on offer there had to be a catch which as White Trash discovered, too late, was that the cartons of orange juice expired in September 1987!! How long had they been in the back of your garage Frank?? Assuming the rest of the pack to be lost in action, we were about to clear up when Cannae be Arsed et al swept down the hill.

As it was, it seems that a few walkie-talkies and assorted hashers had taken early retirement and already made it back to the car park. That's not even counting Piss Poor who apparently remained in the car (maybe guarding the pies that were on offer later)

With it still pissing down, the hash circle (line really) was reconvened in the shelter of the ranger's hut. Down-downs went to:

• Lifeboats, something to do with coastguards being blown away,

• Sir for a tenuous connection to a disgruntled RBOS customer as reported in the Guardian,

• Little Shit the head hare for getting the run location wrong today,

• Sans O for telling Swampy she reminded him of...

• Swampy, Sergio for his (lack of) BBQ lighting skills,

• Twizzle as returner and ambassador to Newfoundland,

• Lights Out for managing to fall uphill, and

• Mad Cyclist for haring a worthy trail in rotten conditions - then trying to poison us with out of date drinks!

On On Well Laid

ABERDEEN HASH HOUSE HARRIERS - RUN NO. 1149

17 OCTOBER 2004

LOCKBURN NEAR STRACHAN

HARES SERGIO & CANNA BE ARSED

Lesson in life. Never upstage the GM when he thinks he has a horn in his hand especially when he has a pen in his other hand! Larger than recent numbers turned up for a run around a loch which is not on my ten year old map near that metropolis of Strachan a place whose name I've always liked. Before the run Shiggles was privileged with the first DD for leaving his lights on. He should take some lessons from Lights Out. We were then treated to the story of last night where he got arseholed and on returning from a puke in the toilet returned to the bar to fondle his wife only to find it was someone else's wife. His escape was to sing his peanut song for the rest of the night. There is only one word I can use to describe this run and that is:

WelldoneharesforfindinganewrunsitewithscenicviewsandchanginroomwithtoiletsalongsidewhichFarmerdidotseeuntilitwaspointedouttohimafterhehadapeeinthesandquarrywhatanidiotbutwhocaresanywaytherunheadedoffnorthorwestorsomewherecatchingoutHarley&WatsoffinthemiddleofaboggettingtheirfeetverywethahahahaidiotsnotlikethecleverpeoplewhostayedontrailandintothewoodswhereThePenguingatheredupmushroomsforhisvegetarianlunchfortheBBQbutmoreofthat!atertheadvantageofhavingtwoharesisthatyoucanusuallykeepsightofatleastoneofthemtohelpyoushortcutwhenyouarefeelinglazythechecksweredeviousandmadeagoodjobofkeepingthepacktogetherbyallowingthefolksatthebacktocatchupwiththeFRBsononoververyprettyandvariedterrainthroughorewoodsandmanymorebogsgettingallourfeetwetyippeeyippeeandthentothebeerstopforawellearnedrestandaweedrinkfromwhereitwasashortreckbacktotherunsitewelldoneharesf*ckinggoodrun

The saddest part of the run was at the beer check when it was realised that wee Donald brought by our new runner Mary had got lost and I know how scary it can be to have short legs in deep heather. The good news however was that Donald was found - a bit the worse for wear and now a mud brown colour instead of the gleaming white of before the run. Back at the cars the organisers got stuck into starting up the BBQ while the rest changed into dry clothes and while we waited for the BBQ the circle was formed and YWHMH took control ha ha ha of the circle while the women continued nattering on about some drivel no doubt. Show respect for your worthy hashmaster himself and give the idiot a chance to feel important. (He's only got a little horn after all). Realising that the women were better at talking he brought in our worthy RA Shirley Valentine to tell us all the latest gossip which she had to hand by way of a newspaper cutting with a story about one of our hares Dick who caused some concern when the e-mail invitations to several schools barred the word Dick of Dick Whittington fame. Our Dick then sent a digital photo of his dick (note the small d?) to his girlfriend who laughed herself silly. Our RA was indebted to the Hares but most disappointed that she had brought her bikini (October?) but???? I didn't hear the rest of the story and my notes are illegible. She dragged in The Penguin for starting the run with two horns but running with neither. Watsoff got the best DD for suggesting a new sport for the area to attract large crowds of Scots where they were encouraged to shoot the English. This was thought by our RA to be Racist but the majority of Scots present thought it was a particularly good idea so much so that he was gifted a bottle of Johnnie Walker by Sir for initiative. The Hares were accused of a misdemeanour (Miss who??) for advising the walkie talkies to hit the road and turn right but failed to tell them that this would lead them to the top of Cairn O Mount several hours or days later. Welcome back to returner Swampy but farewell to leaver Swampy who is off to Oz for a year in Sydney. Keep in Touch. Back to the BBQ- we were getting a bit peckish but not due to the smell of burgers on coals and certainly we were not choking on the smoke. Thanks very much Hares for the idea of a BBQ in such a lovely setting but I suppose we can say that it was the best £3 not spent in a long time and we shall have to watch this space for a repeat performance.

The Penguin

Ps Message to Farmer YWHMH Shall I return this pen to Abbey National and/or report a theft to the police or would you prefer to buy me a pint while we negotiate a way out

A man came home from work, sat down in his favourite chair, turned on the TV, and said to his wife, "Quick, bring me a beer before it starts."

She looked a little puzzled, but brought him a beer. When he finished it, he said, "Quick, bring me another beer. It's going to start.” This time she looked a little angry, but brought him a beer. When it was gone, he said, "Quick, another beer before it starts." That's it! She blows her top! "You bastard! You waltz in here, flop your fat ass down, don't even say hello to me and then expect me to run around like your slave. Don't you realize that I cook and clean and wash and iron all day long?" The husband sighed. "It's started!

Run 1148

Last week's run (1148)....

Hare: Wotzoff.

Have you ever noticed the body language when the GM says, 'We need a scribe'. The circle goes silent, the body language speaks volumes; eye contact avoided, heads slightly hung, nobody speaking. First one to speak might get to do the write up. So why did I speak first?

Our super organised GM smiled broadly, and his super organised scribe kit was mine. Lucky me, eh ? 'I'm going on my holidays' "When?" came the response. I decided to shut up because Sans 0 was just getting out his car and I could see an opportunity. 'Scribe' I yelled.

What a nice hasher that Sans O is. We really ought to revert to his original hash title of The Count. He accepted being scribe...........for all of 5 minutes, then passed it on to Struth in the same opportune manner.

None of this escaped the eagle eyed GM: all 3 of us were told to scribe.

A wee aside, Mr Farmer, Sir, our new GM. How is there no a Hash Sheet? I mean, I saw Mad Cyclist's name on the Hash payroll as Edit Hare. And where has the Hash Shit tee shirt award gone? Has AH3 gone soft?

So, there we were, Wotzoff as Hare and I was looking forward to a runners' run. I mean a runner of Willie's standard can deliver a good run, except not today, it was a wade in the heather. Oor Wullie was his usual picture of sartorial elegance: shrunken Ronhills with the erse hengin' oot, trainers with the soles stuck back on and a Harrod's bag. A Harrod's bag?? Willie I remember you tell me you were a Lidl shopper, something to do with the price of the cider. Then he announces that in his Lidl bag he has Sainsbury's flour.

Harley, point of reference. Since when did the Hash support downmarket shoppers in their attempts to go upmarket ? Anyway, there was a trail of sorts....Sans O and Struth can write that bit up, I'm getting in first with my version.

What I really want to tell you....or piss you all off with ....... is that I am on my holidays. How's the weather with you because it's awfully hot and sunny here 3 thousand miles from Aberdeen. It's all shorts and strappy tops and that is just Joy Boy. I'm just about to nip down to the Poolside Bar to meet my pals for some pink champagne. And if that does not piss you off this will; the pink champagne is 4 euros a bottle.

Drinks are on me.

On On The Body

AH3 Hash Scribe Run 1147

OnOn & OnInn: Water Wheel Inn, Bieldside

Hare: Bin Liner

'Twas a fine, sunny October morn in Aberdeen so a sizeable pack of liquorice allsorts assembled in the car park of the Water Wheel Inn. Some hobblers, some not, some walkers, some not, some runners, some not, some cyclists, some..... hey, wait a minute, this was supposed to be a Hash not a bike tour, but yes, there was the Hare with a bike.

The circle was called by the GM with a squeak of his horn - more of a whoopsie cushion, methinks....now I remember when there was a real HORN to call the rabble to order. Farmer demonstrated that he hadn't been listening to a word I'd said over the past two years by forgetting to a) invite the RA to award the pre run Down-Down; and b) ask for any announcements. Unfortunately, for both you and I, dear reader, he did remember to allot the Hash Scribe and at the same time sentenced the poor incumbent to carry his whoopsie cushion round the trail too. I have a feeling said cushion might get lost before too long.

The Hare announced that this was going to be a long run and pointed the pack in a westerly direction along the North Deeside Road. All went well through the first check at Oldfold Farm road end, with the trail carrying on in a westward direction, but the next check proved a sign of things to come. The pack searched high and low but no flour did they find until the Hare eventually arrived and the trail was called down through a field towards the old railway line. The joy of being on trail didn't last long as the pack lost flour again at the bottom of the field. They milled about here and they wandered aimlessly there, until finally a cry of OnOn was heard from a tunnel going under the old railway. The Heroes scrambled down the embankment and set off along a narrow, nettle- and bramble-strewn gully towards the river Dee. The check on the river bank kept the pack confused until the Hare arrived on his bike and a discreet query yielded a nod of his head in the direction of Aberdeen.

A long trail alongside the river strung the pack out until they were confronted with another nettle- and bramble-strewn wilderness terminating in a deep, wide, water-filled ditch. I confess that along with Farmer, Stainless and Trouser Shredder, I had bypassed the wilderness and crossed the Ganges upstream where it was only calf-deep. An unwittingly wise move as others got wet googlies by following the real trail and their misfortune was recorded for posterity by Bin Liner. Meanwhile, the smug group of short-cutters jogged away taking the Hare's bike with them before depositing it behind a gorse bush.

The smugness was short-lived as we also shortcut by accident the sweetie check in a stone hut by the river before the trail headed up through Camphill, across the main road and up Dalmuinzie Road. However, Sonic soon overtook me carrying the remnants of the edible goodies and was glad to be unburdened. A pleasant path through a leafy wood brought us out onto Hillhead Road and the trail went on up the hill again to a check by a farm, where lived a little old couple who had never heard of the new Scottish Rights of Way Act or the Outdoor Access Code. They were incensed at seeing hashers trample their valuable weeds, squeeze through their rickety fences and watch them standing at their windows. Tonto attempted appeasement and when it turned out that the trail went on up the road after all, we left them to seethe together over their Sunday roast.

Another check, and the trail headed across an overgrown grassy field into the woods where we came across JC and Jiffy, who had followed a No-No trail and missed the beer check. At this point I threw the whoopsie cushion to Lights Out, as I was fed up being moaned at for not blowing it - it's not my fault the average hasher needs an ear trumpet and Farmer's whoopsie cushion makes a barely-audible squeak. The pack happened on the beer check on the edge of the wood and the On Inn trail took us through Oldfold stables and back to the main road again. Cannae-Be-Arsed cycled back having come across the Hare's bike abandoned by a stile.

Down-Downs were awarded by Cinders to:

• Fiona "Likes" Cox: for 10 runs

• Cannae Be Arsed: for commenting "it's rising again" whilst immersed in water with The Body

• Sans O: for wearing naff long johns

• Dave Cunningham (now christened Whinger): for complaining about lack of flour on even the false trails

• Farmer and Nae Knickers: for playing Water Babes in the bath together

• Bin Liner: the Hare

THE END By Fifi

Run 1146

Hello and welcome to the Write-up for run # 1146 which is scribed by me, Lights Out @:-)

The run was on a glorious morning, and because the on-on was in Kemnay, the hare was, yes, you guessed it Penguin.

The Pre-run Circle involved a down-down for T-Rex Cock who reached 50 runs and he was also rewarded with an item of clothing (T-shirt I think). & I was allocated the task of scribe & hash horn (something I learned will go hand in hand over future runs). Then off we went on the run, on the instructions of Penguin which consisted of:

“Can Anyone Swim?”, “The Arrows Never Lie”, “Watch out for electric Fences"

The run started initially around the “Burbs" of Kemnay, This was the last point any one of us saw Harley, when the deaf old git complained that he couldn't hear me blowing off my horn (more on my use of it later @:-))& he went off in a totally different direction, At the end of the Run we found that he had scarpered, but at least he did his duty as hash cash prior to the run.

The trail came to a halt at the river bank with flour on the other side, thankfully there was a road bridge within a few single figure meters away from the trail so there was no need to crack out the Arm bands, Eh Penguin?

The Run Proceeded on a huge loop around what seemed like privately owned woodland next to the river, or at least it was according to the Pengmiester who claims he had a discussion with the landowner about the run, followed by an invitation to dinner by said landowner. Who then went onto complain that our Flour trail was in effect "litter". I think the invitation was then changed from “to dinner” to “as dinner for his dogs" considering the response.

It was around this section that the hash broke up in various attempts to look for Trail despite the enthusiastic use of my shiny new horn. 2 out of the 3 arrows were either false trails or back checks. Meaning that Penguin's instruction has put him on course to be hashing's equivalent of Lord Archer.

Off we proceeded through an electric fence riddle that meant you had to go “Around” it rather than over & through it. And some thick undergrowth that proved eventful for T-Rex Cock. In which he came within around 1-5 meters of a deer before it suddenly bolted off (I'm sure you would as well If you had never seen a Dinosaur before @:-) ). & Nearly became extinct himself, when he ran knee first into an unseen stray wooden log & Keeled over, But he was one reptile that has clearly evolved & Picked himself up to run the rest of the trail.

The Run then proceeded to the Beer check along the bank of the river which tested even the most finely balanced hasher, one wrong step and it was in the drink so I'll give The hare credit where it was due, 2 out of three correct instructions weren't bad. It was at this point that Threadbare & Drillbit's existence was collectively acknowledged after spending a long spell, well, lost, basically (more on this later). The Beercheck seemed like an old ruined chapel by the bank of the river, during which T-Rex piped up "Good Place for a shag”, now Fair play a lot of people get a lot of urges to do things when they reach their 50th, But could T-rex be reaching his “Mid hashing” crisis? Only he knows for sure.

After the Beercheck the majority of hashers turned into Walkie Talkies, on the return back to our collective vehicles, Myself included as we consumed the remainder of the beer and chatted & belched along,

At the Post-run circle, we learned that Harley departed us early after losing the run indefinitely. Customary Down-Downs were had for the new runners (a couple Who's handles Escape me as per bloody usual).

And another hash happening is the now customary time keeping of Struth. Making mine look like old faithful. Instead of her getting the down down, softie down downs were given to her Offspring For Being “Auto Wankers” for not getting out of bed Early enough to allow their mother to attend the run on time.

And Hash Misdemeanour Down Downs were given to Threadbare, Drillbit, & myself. Drillbit & Threadbare, for getting so Dam lost they ended up at the suspension bridge when the run went nowhere near it. Myself for the Over enthusiastic blowing of my horn for the day, Shirley Valentine claiming of which she'd rather hear that than my “usual shit”

One final Downdown was for the hare (penguin), For: Setting the run, the dinner "engagement” Mentioned earlier with the complainer about our flour, and finally abusing his hare privileges and making advances towards one of the new runners (the Female one)

I shall close with an announcement, If anyone wants a laugh and fancies seeing some Lewd Crude Rude Antipodean comedy, Ozzy Comic Kevin “Bloody” Wilson is performing at the Music hall on Tuesday November the 16th, there are still bagloads of tickets available from the box office next door.

Till next time On (Rock) On Lights Out @:-)

Run 1145

Hared by Shirley Valentine

In order to make a good start for the new winter running season here's the first Sunday run scribe.

On this fine Sunday morning the pack gathered at Edzell Woods which most managed to find after being misinformed about map reference by the newly reinstated edit hare. Alas last minute arrangements were made to ensure anyone showing up at the wrong place were caught, we now know the results of this don't we Sans O...

After welcoming the three visitors (Brian, Jane and Dominique) and being duly instructed by our hare of the day we set of into the forest along a pleasant trail which went through nice forests to checks and back checks. The pack stayed nicely together along the first part of the run however this was not to continue.

We crossed roads and went through nettles and forest and surprise ... We even had to go through a burn! Who said this was a girlie run??!! The scenery was lovely and flower was clear to follow.. Some had a few difficulties here and there but were put on the correct trail by the bicycle mounted hare. After a good bit of running the beer check was reached and most of the pack gathered for a wee refreshment which was needed after 1 1/2 run.

We were missing our two Frenchies though and even after the rest was back at the cars they were still missing. A search party went out to retrieve them and the circle commenced:

Award for: Nae Knickers for 150 runs, bravo

Down downs awarded to:

• The two lost sheep from France

• Farmer for his IT knowledge

• Mad Cyclist for the excellent map ref

• Little shit for ensuring everyone got to the right place

• Hare for losing 2 runners

• Sergio for inappropriate comments about female bottoms, quite broad Dick

• Little shit again for comments about girlie runs and burn crossings

• Drill bit for being a sad git with a pedometer

• 'All because' for missing the flower after the horsebox

• Hare for such a nice run in not so know territory

• Thrupennies for her shiny sparkly party shoes worn at the Ropers BBQ

• A combined one for Harley , 'All because', Sergio and Well Laid for not following trail and running to Shirleys house for the beer check

That it folks.

Cocks-in