Scribes 2007

On the fifth day of Christmas

Sun day 30th December 2007

AH3 hash # 1325 - Shag-it Farm, near Sauchen

Hare: Hippo

A cold but clear and Sunny day.- Too cold to risk bumping into irate farmers hunting for the pot over a white Aberdeenshire countryside with nowhere to hide?- Although it was very tempting to linger over the breakfast black pudding, my dear Hen reminded me that it was a year to the day that Saddam Hussein was hanged, and so I jumped in the car and skidded off to the Hippo mansion, conveniently situated east of the Dunecht glacier.- Here I found the hare showing Wotzoff his new skating rink, which he explained he was using to get his place in the Guinness Book Of Records for the highest number of hash vehicles in the smallest possible space.- Apparently however, his neighbour, farmer McShagger, was putting the kybosch on this attempt by driving a coach and horses through it.

Hippo and The Penguin were also trying to get into the Guinness Book of Records by accumulating 140000 AH3 runs between them. - Well done! And each received an almost-matching bum bag.- We toasted their noble effort.- Hippo then explained that despite extensive research he had laid a trail running through three special sites of extra-special scientific interest, a pheasant hatchery, Scotland’s largest tree-based bird hide, a truffle mine, a Celtic druids’ burial ring, and Farmer McShaggers’ prize Dry Blackthorn piggery.- So we all had to ignore the dull yellow spots of frost-enhanced flour and follow the nice bright new organic white spots that he or possibly Mrs. T would be laying if they could get in front of the FRBs and SCBs.- It was obvious that this run would need an experienced hash horn, someone with the nous to feel a hash trail, someone with the confidence and charisma to rally the lost and forlorn, someone with the humanity to gather up lost sheep and lead them to the promised land, I have a dream.- Sergio looked around the circle, shivering in the winter Sun light.- His kindly old grey eyes gradually fell on mine.- “You’re the man”- What our esteemed GM had forgotten however, was that T. Rexes are cold-blooded and therefore can only extend their fibula flexor longus slowly below freezing point (well that’s my excuse).-

 The trail slipped down icy driveways, along icy car-tracks, across icy fields, atop icy tarmac, through icy farmyards, around icy gorse, up icy hills and skating over icy pools.- At least this stopped Little Shit doing his mud distribution trick.- We were running into the Sun , so I couldn’t see who was ahead, but apparently it was Trouser Shredder, Wotzoff and Tiger Feet who were running all the back-checks to ensure the pack kept together  apart from Drill Bit, who was testing out his survival hash trousers and apart from Numbskull, who was still following Boxing Day’s flour (this was a great impromptu run, but I bet it doesn’t get a scribe published).- Weirdly enough, after the whisky mac stop and the Stella Artois stop, my limbs felt much more functional - I’ll have to try this at home.- The only problem with hanging around at refreshment stops is having old codgers like Wotzoff initiating a debate on whether there should be more whisky or more mac in the mix.- Or perhaps I was miffed because no-one was interested in my debating topic on the prevalence of barbed wire in runs in North Aberdeenshire.- I really wanted to pee after all this, but didn’t want to risk getting stuck to a tree.- Fortunately, as Mrs. T explained, the second part of the actual run was shorter than the planned run, to make up for the extra-long section they had to add to the first part of the run to avoid the pigs, or was it the rare pheasants?

Being at the back I missed out on all the end-of-year gossip. (But I’m sure I heard ****** complain to- **** that her bloke’s idea of idea of foreplay was half hour of begging.) –Lights Out did tell me a joke, but it was far too rude to reproduce here. - Instead, try this one:

A man stumbles up to the only other patron in a bar and asks if he could buy him a drink. “Why of course,” comes the reply. - The first man then asks: “Where are you from?”- “I'm from Ireland,” replies the second man. - The first man responds: “You don't say, I'm from Ireland too! Let's have another round to Ireland.”- “Of course,” replies the second man.- I'm curious, the first man then asks:  “Where in Ireland are you from?”- “Dublin,” comes the reply. - “I can't believe it,” says the first man. “I'm from Dublin too! Let's have another drink to Dublin.”- “Of course,” replies the second man.- Curiosity again strikes and the first man asks: “What school did you go to?”- “Saint Mary's,” replies the second man, “I graduated in '69.”- “This is unbelievable!”, the first man says. “I went to Saint Mary's and I graduated in '69, too!”- About that time in comes one of the regulars and sits down at the bar.- “What's been going on?” he asks the bartender.- “Nothing much,” replies the bartender. “The O'Reilly twins are getting drunk again.”

Back at the on-inn, Wotzoff demanded a pseudo-scientific explanation as to why the gluhwein tasted different every week. - (It actually depends on what the cat drags in that morning.)- Numbskull found a corner of Hippo’s estate with bright Sun shine to show off his new trainers. - We knew they were new because they had “NEW” on the sides.- He then protested that he should drink a down down from each shoe instead of just one.- Perhaps he likes the cheap lager we use.- Our new Harriette Chiara is now known as Pussy Boots, despite the RA referring to her confusingly as Tom Tom.-

Into Hippo and Mrs. T’s (warm) mansion for a fine meal featuring some of Mr. McShagger’s best porkers.- Hippo was outlining his plan to get in to the Guinness Book of Records by cycling backwards from Lands’ End to John O’Groats with a wooden spoon in his mouth.- Meanwhile, in a different room Little Shit was outlining plans to replace post-500 run awards with public floggings.- Sounds too Mearns to me.- Only 51 hashing days till next Christmas.- Pip! Pip!

T.Rex Cock 

RUN 1324

23rd December 2007

Hares: Farmer & Tiger Feet

Scribe:  Sergio

Location:  Farmer’s Farmyard-

1324 -- The Christmas Special

Weather was cold but dry. The wind was cold too, but there was also a bit of Sun to warm the brow. A good crowd gathered in the Farmyard in eager anticipation of what has become something of an AH3 tradition - the Christmas Special.

Farmer and Tiger Feet explained the plan for the day: this was a “flourless “run - Farmer gave it some clever sounding made up Latin name, but he still had to explain what was going on! Who understands Latin these days anyway? Amongst the hash?

The plan was encouragingly simple: we would be told where to go, literally, and we could go whichever way we liked to get there. Once “there “we would be told where next. Refreshments would be served while we absorbed this new information and fed the revised co-ordinates into our (Christmas issue) GPS’s.

First instruction - “leave the Farmyard, and head for One Cell’s pad in Morningside Road. We were off. I followed the majority on the southern route, however Olymprick and a few others tried the northern route past the Cricket Club: it mattered not as we all arrived before One Cell. She came in a few minutes later and treated us to sherry, sausage rolls and Christmas decorations. A good effort and a good start to the run. Next, Farmer told us to get our asses along to Cults Railway Station. This meant a long- steady effort on the railway line and I plodded along with Farmer, Olymprick and One Foot for what seemed like miles. Once there we were handed whisky and crabbies by Two Moons, they were well needed by this stage. Hippo, Trouser Shredder and the fast runners had already set off for sip #3 at the Waldorf School (odd naming a school after a salad, don’t you think?) so we didn’t dally, and soon I was leading a straggle of hounds up the long footpath to the Waldorf. Here more whisky and crabbies were on offer, along with Christmas crackers (I won a bottle opener - always handy!!). Young Chiara attempted to fill my cup with orange juice - I suppose we should expect such folly from a “neohasher.

Thankfully it was (hic!) downhill now, down Craigton Road and the pace picked up. JC flashed passed, tooting as he went, and slow runners like Bruce Almighty were overtaken on our way to the final stop on the run, at All Because & Batty’s. At 53 Craigton Road. I say this just so any passing hasher can drop in to sample their fine hospitality - especially if they missed the fare that was set out before us on this day. Superb soup, with garlic bread, washed down with some very smooth vodka. And the piece de resistance - chestnuts roasting on the bbq! We lingered, Little Shit, Drillbit and others enjoying the pale Sun from the comfort of the deck.

When we finally roused ourselves it was a quick jaunt back to the Farmyard and the circle. Oddly, the events from hereon are hard for an old timer like me to recall. I seem to remember some speculation on Hippo’s late return. Could he have set off for Duthie Park as advised by the hares at the last stop? Farmer’s entire family were called out for a drink - there were plenty of them.

We also had the traditional Christmas photo, perfectly choreographed by the hares, where those new to the Christmas Special, just Nipples and Chiara this year - were honoured in our special AH3 way.

Then it was inside to see what Nae Knickers had been cooking up for us - and once again we were not disappointed: superb nosh and plenty of it too. Hungry hashers, appetites fuelled by those pre-lunch drinks fell upon the groaning table, until they staggered back, hands on extended bellies, groaning themselves. All this and Christmas in 2 days’ time!!

ON ON, and happy hashing in 2008

SERG

ABERDEEN HASH HOUSE HARRIERS

Sun day 16th December 2007

# 1323 - Echt FC Car Park

Hare: Plonker

Bitterly cold, but bright and clear, with a wee breeze cutting across the playing fields, cutting through to the bone - an OnOn, which I am lead to believe was only frequented 6 weeks or was it 6 months ago. Ah, it's surprising how alcohol dulls the brain!

We were at Echt FC carpark, and based on the reported turnout of the Xmas Dinner, not a bad turnout for the start of this Hash. We arrived early to find the Sheriff of Nottingham, oops, Harley mugging early arrivals for their hard earned cash. Apparently Sergio was brassic lint after spending his ill-gotten gains on copious amounts of wine the night before.

Hippo was trying to get a peek at Thrupenny Bits bruises, which she reputedly had gained by falling off a table whilst trying to lap dance.

Sergio managed to realise why he had got out of bed this morning and called the pack to order, promptly gave the horn, orange coat and the task of scribe to Sharnie. As the orange top and the horn do not take much operating, she kept these and handed over the scribe to me (partnership!).

Numbskull duly awarded Thrupenny Bits a cold, tooth breaking beer in reward for Triple Five Hashes, at which point she was presented with two bin liners neatly stitched to look line shorts!

Plonker (hare) intimated that this Hash was of purist quality, a doubtful pre-run premise as Harley admitted to helping her carry the flour as the trail was laid.

OnOn was called and those on the previous visit to this venue, assumed it went opposite to the way it went last time, then after cocking up decided it went the same way as last time, out the village, up the hill and back. Wrong!

All in all an easy trail that kept the FRS, SCBs and SBs together. Lots of burns to cross, but even those of a stumpy persuasion managed not to get their feet wet.

At the beer check there was a good selection of beers and softies, which was still intact even after the walking section had got there first. Plonker admitted that she choose the beer based on the how pretty the cans looked, it worked in this case, Old Speckled Hen, a nice drop of beer. Chatter abounded, The Penguin bemoaning that he had lost 3 kilos over the last couple of weeks, which for his stature is quite a lot, and he had put it all back on again.

Back to the OnOn.

Whilst sipping gluhwein, warming through nicely, the ambience of the occasion was spoilt by the return of Numskull. His circuit of the Hill of Fare was not part of the hares trail, but he knows better!

Sergio pulled out a grubby piece of paper and read a poem, not sure what about, but it was shouted down and the down downs where quickly doled out, and off to the pub!!!!

Struth for nearly doing a naked belly dance.

Plonker for the Hash trail - well laid.

OnOn - Scribe

 Little Shit

RUN MCCCXXII

ROWANTREE CARPARK

 Sun day 9 December 2007

 Hare JC

It rained before the run, it was to rain during the run, and it torrented on the brief circle during which your illustrious scribe- the erstwhile GM was awarded a quaich for 350 runs while the once and present and future!!!? RA- -- Numskull --- was awarded a fleece for rather more. (The fleece was rapidly subsumed into Numskulls unvarying apparel of Sun dried dogshit grey).

 A fast run (at least it was at the front) lots of trees and tracks and wet wet- grass and gnarly bits. And it is always a revelation when even such familiar turf as Bennachie -reveals previously unvisited boggy bits.

 -Lots of falsies and suchlike to distract from the drips, and then, toward the end of the run, an opportunity for one of my, now traditional, bouts of badinage with an irate land owner. As Trouser shredder and I tripped merrily along a private road an approaching figure, muffled in hooded top and carrying a large sack, (somewhat similar to the figure presaging doom in Anna Karenina’s dream) bawled out in the stentorian tones of an outraged upper class English matriarch, “ What are you doing on my land ? “- At which point Trouser shredder spotted that the trail fortuitously veered into the trees, so off we gambolled forsaking the opportunity of enlightening the dear lady about the benevolence of the so called Scottish Government. As we went the trees shook with her shrieks of “Get off my land! “Apparently she then strung a piece of string across the road as defence against the depredations of the Hash.

 A welcome beer and sweetie check beside the internment venue of a local landowning clan, the Smiths. Then a short cavort back to the cars and another drookit circle where Farmers supervisor Susie ,formerly known as Orra Quine (apt Hash Handles ought not to be discarded, we disregard- tradition at our peril) was awarded a downdown for having an umbrella in the circle, but forgetting to put it up. Not much else was said of any interest to me and then- Hare JC was thanked, many of the circle then repaired to chez Fifi & JC to partake of their hospitality. And still it rained.

 Wotzoff 

RUN 1321 STONEHAVEN

Sun day 2nd December 2007

Hare: Dutchcap

Scribe : Pigiron

24 hapless hashers got out of their fetid pits this Sunny Sunday to gather at the site of- the new Tesco/Luxury Apartments/hole-in-the-ground on the outskirts of Stonehaven megalopolis. Sadly deprived of the GM, the hash had to rely once more on Harley to start proceedings. Naturally he mis-awarded the task of hash scribe to one who would have no idea where the run might have gone.

It seems that Harley has finally totalled up his retirement fund, since

FiFi (555 runs) and

Pigiron (300 staggers) were awarded a small return on their investment in the form of a pair of shorts and a hip flask. (Not one of each, just one each, you fool) . The hipflask is totally useless, surprise, surprise, since introduction of any liquid apart from distilled water will cause it to melt. I cannot possibly comment on the shorts.

Anyway and whatever, Dutchcap was haring this event which more or less guarantees a double marathon, although he was kind enough to recommend finding your own way as a trail-shortening ploy. His advice was eagerly accepted by at least five SGBs who got back PDQ and nearly finished the glueyvine before the real runners got back. I am told by one who knows that the run took in the golf course, beach front, suburbs and Dunnotter woods and was bloody long. Tsk tsk such language! Harley is suspected of running to the Dutch Lair in hopes of a homemade soup beer stop whereas the real thing was at the other end of town in the dark woods. nough said.

The main event at the circle was a muddy arse competition easily won by T Rex Cock. Amazing what captains of industry find to do on Sundays, is it not? Concerned with global warming the RA held Singit up as a man who knows the value of a pound and does not lightly deplete resources by buying new shoes. Unfortunately the now open-topped sandals he wears were unable to hold sufficient beer for a decent down. Warming to his theme, the next down went to the polystyrene-huggers in our midst, Canna be Arsed and Trouser-shredder for driving to the hash from their love-nest just around the corner.

It being chilly the circle then wandered off home.

On ON

AH3 Run #1320 on 25th Nov 07 at Warren Wood brought to you by Numbskull

(Recollections recounted by JC)

Once upon an overcast and chilly Sabbath morning, the Hash assembled at Warren Wood. Cars were duly unburdened of athletes, non-athletes, last week’s smelly socks & muddy running shoes, sprogs, all-terrain buggies, all loose change, etc. Instantly alerted by the unusually attentive greetings of the GM, and his seemingly innocuous enquiry as to which member of our family was running this week, I was dismayed, but not surprised to find myself put in charge of Hash Drivel for the week. Mrs T on the other hand did seem to be surprised to find herself dragged into the circle and awarded a 450th cap, which she proudly wore next to the skin for the boys. On a more subdued note Hippo announced that he had brought along a book of remembrance on behalf of recently deceased Lobotomy. Heartfelt sympathy from his many Hashing acquaintances is extended to his family.

With no time to forage on an Olymprick Pie, I nervously fingered my horn in anticipation of the checking which lay ahead. Despite its age, it was in good working condition - probably due in no small measure to its getting a routine weekly workout. It is difficult on a Numbskull run for the typical hasher to out-guess the hare, on account of the inability of a ‘normal’ mind to imagine itself sufficiently bereft of logic and common sense. However, given the strung out nature of the neighbouring woodland it was obvious that a fair amount of tarmac treading would be in order, and Numskull kindly elected to get this over with first - presumably so that by the end of the trail we would probably only remember the more recent leafy, beer saturated bits.

When we eventually entered Ashentilly Wood we found Farmer waiting at the first proper check. As usual he hadn’t managed to spot the flour, and had been obliged to trust to luck (combined with following the hare) in order to arrive just as the Hash’s finest were appearing from the opposite direction. This latter collection included Plonker (still on a high from cycling out to the OnOn), Harley (complaining about the temperature difference between Florida and Drumoak), Wotzoff (still going strong after 60+++ celebrations - I think it must be something in his water supply), Hippo (or at least most of him), and of course my humble self.

At the next check Numbskull slowly cycled up a false trail in the forlorn hope that he might entice the pack to follow. The pack however, being collectively endowed with an IQ of marginally over 100, immediately saw through the ruse and sped off to the next check, which proved to be the undoing of Hippo. Trouser Shredder took pole position - obviously having the previous day stomped out of the Mearns 400th bean feast before the beans had even arrived had not done her any lasting harm. Of course, where Trouser Shredder dares to tread Cannae be Arsed is not far behind (injuries permitting).

About this stage Mad Cylist and Mad Dog appeared from direction unknown (but definitely off trail!), as did Little Shit and short of seven’ Hillary. The trail cut through a boggy neck of woodland to gain the public road bordering the policies of Durris House and other fine residences. Upon espying a ‘For Sale’ sign One Liner could not continue without pausing to indulge in some quick mental calculations to ascertain whether the time was ripe to close a deal and move upmarket from Persley. However, the lack of a convenient adjoining supermarket proved decisive, and it was by the cunning appropriation of a child’s bicycle that he caught up on the troops at the beer check.

This was situated by the edge of Durris Burn, and involved fording the stream, since a nearby fallen tree which spanned the freezing torrent had already been commandeered by the Hash Bratz. Several walkie-talkies were already there (naturally). Numbskull was pushing his bike, Fifi was pushing Heebie Geebie, Lights Out was pushing his luck - with the unfortunate result that he sprained his ankle.

Almost within sight of the On-Inn, and Nae Knickers suddenly became quite breathless. Of course, White Trash and Bruce Almightly modestly attributed this to an overwhelming lust provoked by the proximity of their macho-physiques (sic). However Susie’s recent cardiac irregularities hinted at a more plausible explanation, and Farmer was duly dispatched to fetch his 4 x 4 recovery vehicle.

It was good to see that Stainless and Thrupennies had made it back before the onset of darkness, but by this time the FRB’s had consumed all of Hash Dray’s/Edit Hare’s (how many positions can Thrupennies fill?) best Gluhwein, thereby robbing our patient of the re-invigorating powers of Asda’s cheapest. The pack grazed on canned beer instead, and additional helpings were doled out to:

•  Ballsack: as the token visitor

•  Bruce Almighty & WhiteTrash: for never quite managing to get on trail (and for seriously misjudging their sex appeal)

• Numbskull: who thoroughly messed up some convoluted tale about Plonker, and then confusing her with somebody else.

• The Penguin: in recognition of the previous day’s Mearns 400th run. However, on account of being crippled by his gout, he got out of this one, delegating the honour to Cannae be Arsed (small consolation for missing out on a darn good bean feast!)

• Numbskull (again!): for cycling around dispensing flour (a good run incidentally - apart from the early road section, which I had almost forgotten about)

By the time the Hash adjourned to the Old Mill Inn heavy promotion of our forthcoming Little Italian Job by short of three’ Hillary had all but resulted in the Hash Xmas Dinner being sold-out.

OnOn,

JC

Remembrance Sunday 11th November 2007

Hares: - White Trash & Bruce Almighty aka The Two Bookends

Location: - The War Memorial, Corsearder Hill, Finzean

Having arrived early to ensure I had somewhere to park the car I was disappointed not to find the local vicar with his congregation, pipe band, boys brigade and air cadets holding a service.-- At least we held the traditional silence in memory of the fallen.

Despite hiding from the weather behind the War Memorial I was soon ferreted out by our erstwhile GM Sergio to act as scribe.

We were the only foolish ones in a day of very mixed weather to brave the top of the hill.- We had the lot sun, rain wind and sleet and it was cold!- Gloves and Gore-Tex jackets, dress of the day.

Olymprick arrived with a bus load of passengers from Zimbabwe and America not forgetting the pies and sausages. - Good lad!

Tiger Feet was presented with his 150th run sweatshirt. - Well done, as he’s been on a 6 week on/2 week off schedule for the past ten years or so.

The run instructions were you are on when you are on flour.- Farmer and Cannae be Arsed dragged me up a steep hill toward Uncle Tom’s Cairn before we were all called back to cross over for an excellent run around the Finzean estate despite much muttering about the false start-

Although having set the run two days earlier so the Hares would not miss the Mearns run on Saturday and the heavens throwing everything it could at the trail there was still some traces of the odd check now and again.- Despite this slowing the front runners down slightly I never managed to catch up so can only comment from the back of the pack where I thoroughly enjoyed the run in some new terrain for me.- Well done White Trash & Bruce Almighty .- It was well worth the hard work setting it.

Even better was eventually arriving just in time at the beer check to enjoy a Gluhwein and chicken wings.- Very enjoyable despite a quick flurry of ‘sleet’ .- This was the first of the winter so get used to it.

Arriving back at the cars we found Kiara just arriving after her little noddy car had grumbled at being taken out into that horrible weather and complained all the way to the run coughing & spluttering causing her to miss the run. - When she asked to inspect Olymprick’s sausages, as a Food Agency Inspector, she was immediately presented with a Chipolata due to the cold.- Wrong question and not impressed by the size!

Down Downs:

• Shirley Temple and partner from the Fort Collins Hash, Colorado-

• Megane: - Misappropriating, three at the last count!

• Olymprick: - Bringing along- three virgins

• Three Virgins: - Magda, Kelly & Darlene visiting from Zimbabwe.

• Hillary: - Can’t remember why but must have deserved it

• Hares: - White Trash & Bruce Almighty.

Run- 1316

Sun 28 Nov

Hares- : -- Cannae be Arsed and Trouser Shredder

Location : -- In the Woods between Slug Road and South Deeside Road

Watching Lights Out`s road rage antics on the way to the On On would normally have been the highlight of my day. However unabated joy was increased on arriving at the appointed car park to find: - brilliant sunshine & Thain`s pies

A truly heavenly start.- Awarded Hash Horn and Scribe duties as a reward, I`m sure- for creating Run of the Year on the mean streets of Persley mere weeks before , only heightened my pleasure on a day which turned out to be almost as good as said Persley adventure .

Pre run down down went to Penguin, but as I was -admiring my most Halloween-like bright orange waistcoat at the time, I struggle somewhat to recall the reason - if indeed there was any reason at all. None really needed to donate beer to a Hasher after all.

To the run then! ---A beautiful assortment of appropriately clad celebrants of the Halloween tradition (well done us, we woz all ded brill) set off on a truly glorious autumn morning. Thanks then to the witch/warlock powers of the Hares for providing such astoundingly good weather. And an astoundingly good run too.

Somewhat disadvantaged without the magnificent back-drop of Tesco or the Persley Sewage works ,- our valiant Hares were never going to reach the dizzy heights of -my very own prior epic. However they did manage to come very, very VERY close. Brilliant, wonderful and great. Lovely countryside , varied trail , a good number of thought provoking checks and an opportunity for Wotzoff to display his dazzling array of Political and- Diplomatic skills- in “pleasant conversation “with a local landowner.- I only wish I had been present at that last bit to sample , nay to <u>revel</u> in , Wotzoff`s rapier like verbal dexterity. Sometimes `tis a veritable -calamity to be nearer the head of the pack when so much fun is being had elsewhere.

Back at the circle, the remains of Olymprick`s provisions were polished off (mainly I think by Olivia, perched in his boot greeting the arrival of each male Hasher with- a well-practised “Dad -Da”) and Down Downs were awarded to

• Tongue Lasher for a bit of a lapse in vehicular security measures

• Bubbles and Soapy (plus gifted t-shirts) for taking a short walk to buy a paper or something.

• Hilary- for a practised habit of loving us and leaving us too soon at the end of most runs.

• Wotzoff for his political and diplomatic dexterity.

• Sergio, Lum , Lights Out, Trouser Shredder and Mad Cyclist for taking due note of the date and dressing up accordingly. Olymprick should have also been involved but suffered a technical equipment failure (he couldnae drink through his mask!)

• The Hares for a great run.

• And Lights Out again for outstanding driving skills.

On On

One Liner

ABERDEEN HASH HOUSE HARRIERS - RUN NO. 1315

21 OCTOBER 2007

LOCHINCH FARM

HARE TOYBOY

SCRIBE THE PENGUIN

One minute after 11 am and the Pie Mobile arrives loaded up with all sorts of strange people, dog, pies and stovies.- Sergio tries in vain to start the circle but this is ignored as hashers fight to grab a breakfast pie or mouthful of stovies and the women continue rabbitting on about nothing at all. No time for niceties such as “Thank you Olymprick for being so kind as to bring all this lovely food to the hash” -”Haggisimo you’re a minute late! Have a Down Down!- Poor guy had been up half the night at Zurich Airport, catching the 3am flight to Aberdeen to catch a taxi to get to the bakery to cadge a lift to the hash via a customer in Torry who had been waiting for his Rowies since the previous night.

It was a beautiful crisp October morning when we set off east over the swamp, round the loch and over the road to the Cove side where a number of ingenious check backs kept the pack reasonably well together through Altens until we hit Cove Village where all the front runners totally lost the trail and found their own way back to the cars spotting the beer check at the other side of the loch on the way in. No-one felt inclined to run round the loch for a beer when there was loads awaiting in the Hash Beer car.

The circle started and the first down-down went to Bikeless (was it Sergio?) who had driven all the way home from some event with cycle rack on back of car but no bike which had been left behind. Today was Sergio’s Birthday but there was some debate as to whether this was his 51st or 61st. Watsoff was brought in as an Ali Bonggo lookalike - an old man with a beard.

Pig Iron reminded everyone that next week we have to turn our clocks back but had to point out to Lights Out that it is one hour back and not one week back as Lights Out had found his way to last week’s run site north of Kemnay instead of this week’s site south of Aberdeen.

Haggisimo was again brought in for no reason at all other than the fact he was there. Also in the Pie Mobile were Soapy & Bubbles who had walked 5000miles (Chorus from The Proclaimers) round the coast of Britain over the past year with their dog Havoc to raise funds for charity. Anyone wishing to contribute to their chosen charities may still do so and will find them waiting with open palms at the Pie Man’s shop on George Street where they have been retained working to pay for their B & B at Olymprick’s Palace. It was lovely to see Piss Poor back with us today.

 Thanks to the Hare Toy Boy for a good run buggered up towards the end and for the nice little note at the Beer Check pointing out that the beer hidden in these bushes is for Aberdeen Hash and not for any other thieving bastard who may be sniffing around the area. I’m sure the kids from Torry were shit scared when they read this and did not dare open a single can.-

Trouser Shredder announced a tango party to be held on Sat 27 Oct at Cellar 35 at 8pm.

An elderly gentleman-had serious hearing problems for a number of years.- He went to the doctor and the doctor was able to have him fitted for a set of-hearing aids that allowed the gentleman to hear 100%.- The elderly gentleman went back in a month to the doctor and the doctor said, “Your hearing is perfect. Your family must be really pleased that you can hear again.” The gentleman replied, “Oh, I haven't told my family yet.- I just sit around and listen to the conversations. I've changed-my will three times!”

Two elderly gentlemen from a retirement home were- sitting on- a bench under a tree when one turns to the other and says: “Jim,- I'm 83 years old now and I'm- just full of aches and pains. I know-you're about my age. How do you feel?”- Jim says, “I feel just like a new-born baby.”-

 “Really!?- Like a new-born baby!?”- “Yep.- No hair, no teeth and I think I just wet my pants.”

Run 1312

 Sunday 30th September 2007

 Burnett Park, Banchory

 Hare: Whinger

Having just returned hours previously from a month of sloth in the sun, a little exercise was in order so I made the effort to get to run 1312 in good time (I got a down-down this time last year for turning up on the Monday night and wondering why I was the only hasher present as the darkness fell. Mind you, it was one infallible way to avoid being nominated as scribe)

Anyway, Sunday was a typically bright Sunny hashing morning which perhaps explained the low turnout - about a dozen and a half hardy hashers braved the risk of Sun burn, skin cancer or whatever the latest medical thoughts are to spoil one’s enjoyment of the sun. It took me a while to understand why Sergio handed me the Scribe’s orange tabard and tooteroo, before twigging that there had been a change in management in my absence. The rest of the assembled company seemed to be suffering from the same problem as it took poor Sergio ages to persuade any of them to form anything resembling a circle.

At the circle, the normal blah-blah before the start. The only thing of note was the Hashit 2007 presentation bog seat and down-down to Whinger for having the most notable hashing misfortunes in the past year.

Then it was off and the motley crew set off through woodlands to the north west of Banchory, mostly off trail, and the common  comment seemed to be “never been here before “and “haven’t a clue where we are”(the latter a normal hash whinge surely?) Although apparently Olymprick has been here before. Flogging Thain’s pies and stovies no doubt.

The preponderance of checks combined with the fear by the tail enders of getting completely lost meant that the pack kept reasonably close together and the beer wasn’t all gone by the time the beer stop hove into view. Nice rendezvous, with the walkie talkies being present as well. Of course Harley and Farmer had got there within about 5 minutes of the start, Farmer having some self-inflicted scratches and blood to imply that he had done the full circuit. Bruce Almighty also strangely was there, not having been present at the start.

So, back to the On In. Farmer took the lead on what was an easy run/walk to the on-in and managed to miss a big arrow to take us off the old railway line and on to the trail. Fortunately the hare, by now on his bike with a bag of empties sounding like a Buddhist call to prayer, kept us right and everyone ended back where they should be with nobody missing. (Or at least reported missing). The scribe managed to take a major tumble at this stage and apparently pulled a hamstring- (according to offspring later)- within sight of the end.

So to the end. - The boot of Olymprick’s car was almost forced open to get at the pies and stovies within. Delicious as usual. Everyone was waiting for the traditional Sans ‘O’ barbie, particularly in view of the sunny day. However he and Auntie Pasta were fully occupied with the two blonde bombshells - where is the barbie king now?? The two aforementioned youngsters were observed to be hamming in to Olympick’s stovies - isn’t that a case for referral to the NSPCC?

The down downs were the usual unpredictable mayhem.

• Chiara, the lovely Italian with the lovely little car, according to Wotzoff on 6th August, was awarded a T-shirt and down down because she didn’t have one (a T-shirt that is). She actually got two T-shirts, one of which was full of Doric words. (Hallyracket, Blether, Etc) ‘Good’ she said ‘I’m starting Gaelic classes next week’. Hmmm. Note she still hasn’t got a hash handle after 7 weeks. Hint - Italian, little car, recommended to hashing by a beautician - nominations for next week please.

•  Thrupenny Bits was awarded beer after winning the competition for the worst cut incurred on the run. Through her breek leg apparently, so here’s to Hash Gash.

•  Olymprick wasn’t wearing a hash T-shirt so was awarded a down down, despite managing to recover one from his car. Covering the stovies apparently.

• And finally Megane, the Heed Hare, for managing to spirit away the hash signs three weeks ago despite the efforts of the following week’s hares to track them down.

Finally next year’s weekend west was announced. Can’t remember the dates, Easter-ish apparently. Two or three days apparently; Farmer is insisting that Nae Knickers does the full three days. Whatever, bookings to Nae Knickers ASAP.

On On

Goat Wrestler

Run 1311

Sun day 23rd September 2007

The Mean Streets of Persley

Hare One Liner and litter of kids.

Ghost Writer Pigiron

The King is dead! Long Live the King! The Sun shone briefly this week on the New Order. Following the landslide elections at the AGM (read all abaat it on the website) the new GM stepped into a rebellious circle to announce new exciting policies and a better deal for single lesbian Tasmanian fathers but no tax cuts. Sergio, for it was he, immediately stunned his new subjects by having absolutely no idea if any beer was going to be provided. Apparently, under the cover of last week’s Mon soon, 3d bit vanished leaving her number two hash beer in command. Trouble is, no one can remember his name, not even him. The GM’s assurances that Sans “o” would bring supplies and guarantee any deposits on bottles did little to calm the crowd who immediately formed a queue outside Tesco. This crisis- made it even more vital to reach the beer stop where supplies had been brought in by the hare.

To cap an already disappointing start, Sergio awarded the job of hash horn to Stainless. An act of pitiless cruelty for her ghost writer if there ever was one.

Looking excitedly around for a glimpse of the new celebrity RA few noticed that Numbskull was standing in the circle holding a tankard of fizzy. Apparently he was re-elected to the post last week on a wave of euphoric indifference and took the result seriously. Such is democracy, another year of quiet desperation. He started off the New Year in his usual opaque manner, awarding the pre-run down to the GM for reasons known only to himself.

Once the runners had set off One Liner escorted the walkie talkies across the river in a scene reminiscent of “Paint Your Wagon “with marauding bands of ankle biters riding point while Aunty Pasta wrestled with a covered double baby wagon and Sans “o” looked on -indulgently.

The hash normally avoids the North bank of the Don and today we were reminded why. Leave the slums of -Persley for the dark, dank woods beyond and you will come across the set for an apocalyptic war movie. Mysterious ruins pockmark the area, strange stretches- of abandoned tarmac lead nowhere, and nasty organic things lurk in the bushes. One particularly bleak clearing resembles a Roman Circus, left to crumble into ruin once the last lion had finished his lunch.

The walkie talkies, being left to their own devices and a detailed map, immediately became lost and spent most of the morning circling Tesco like a bunch of shopper moths. To their joy they were joined by Bruce Almighty, Batty and (I think) Tonguey, also lost while shortcutting. As for Stainless who was supposed to be leading the hashwell words wisely fail me.

Thanks to the hash being set mainly on tarmac in a well populated area with street signs most of the hash made it back to the magic Walled Garden to receive the new proclamations from the GM. Viz: 1) hash handles will not be awarded until someone has actually thought of/earned a suitable name, as opposed to the practice of everyone standing around in the circle making silly suggestions. 2) The RA will only award two downs, in addition to the hare, thereby avoiding the need to think. Idle bastard.

• Implementing the new diktat Numbskull awarded the following:

• Life Boats and Coxsin for returning to the hash without cheese.

• T Rex Cock for trying to sneak back once a new Hash Beer had been safely appointed. A

• Its All Because for disturbing the RA’s Sunday morning wank. (Sorry Numbskull, there have to be at least two people in the bed for it to qualify as a bonk.)

On On

Run: 1308

 Hare: Numbskull

 Date: Monday 3rd September 2007

 On On: Durris Forrest

 Scribe: Tiger Feet

After spending the day driving to Edinburgh, Glasgow and back, I was looking forward to exercising my legs. As the hare was Numbskull, ably aided by his trusty bike I reckoned that the trail was to be on the cycle paths, with long spaces between flour. I was not let down.

The circle was called to order and a scribe was called for. Canna be Arsed very kindly volunteered my services with a push in the back in to the circle, so much for friends!!

Returnee after 12 years, 2 runs, with no handle was introduced.

Pre run down down was awarded to the birthday boy?? Farmer, 60 years young, and does not look a year over 70. I hope I am still running when I reach that age.

The hare then described the run. Not a long one, not a short one, and no rules. Nothing new then from Numskull? There was a special H trail laid especially for Hippo and Canna be Arsed, who wanted to run an extra 5 miles.

We then set off, predictably the trail was on the bicycle paths. The H trail was found and that was the last we saw of the two marathoners until the end. They even missed the beer stop, hope you both had a good run.

Even though the run was on the cycle paths, the hare kept the pack together by very long back checks or disappearing trail, or even with the help of Jess. Allegedly Stainless tried to use her as a football but got her two legs tangled up with Jess’s four - Stainless lost!!. After she managed to get back to her feet, 5 minutes later, she was escorted back to the cars and driven home by Pigiron. I had been off somewhere looking for flour, when this happened, running and calling, until the beer check. Then it was back to the cars, for beer and stories. Stainless’ attempt at ‘keepie up’ with Jess was relayed to all at the circle.

Down Downs were given to:

• Numskull for supplying beer at 34 pence a bottle at the beer stop!

• The Penguin, while running, complaining that it would be dark soon. Wrong, it was still light for the circle.

• Thrupenny Bits and Hillary for leaving their clothes at the Roper’s Toga party

• Numskull for Hareing

NB Pigiron sent the following e-mail round the next day.

Stainless has a beautiful blackeye, a nasty strained shoulder and a buggered knee. After a bad night I took her to A&E where she was x-rayed until she glowed. No obvious lasting damage, but she will not be able to play rugby for two weeks...the photo-shoots for Runners World and Vogue are obviously on hold.

She is seriously pissed off at not being able to play her tennis league matches or run for a while. Just as well we didn't pay our subs in advance Harley! Ha!

Thanks to the person who emailed me to enquire after m'wife's condition.

Scribe

Tiger Feet

Run #:1306 (I think)

 Date: 20/08/07

 On On: The Witches Tit

 Hare: Singet

The Witches Tit is so named by the hash because it’s always freezing cold and tonight’s run was no exception. We left sunny, warm Stonehaven and arrived at The Tit to find it freezing over and viewing hashers desperately seeking extra layers to adorn. IT’S AUGUST!!!!!!!!!! No sign of global warming here then.

A pre-run down-down was awarded but I can’t remember to whom or why (probably because I forgot to write my scribe until now -over a week after the run occurred -well at least I am writing it!).

The hare, Singet, laid on a treat of back checks and falsies through the forest trails and paths. Just after the sweetie check Hippo assisted the hare in his task to confuse us (not difficult I know) and sent us off on a flourless falsie but it still took the front runners about half a mile to realise we’d been had. Farmer & Harley did the trail backwards as is their want and duly sent us all in the wrong direction, because they wanted to. This upset some of the front runners who were heard cursing the gruesome twosome for some time during, after & beyond.

The beer-check appeared quickly after a swirl round a wee hill and the circle was quick, given the fact we were all freezing our wee arses off. Again, down downs were awarded but I remember only a few:

Chiara for getting lost on her way to the run and subsequently missing it (she is new, she’ll do it again). She did arrive in time for the beer though, clever Harriette.

Olymprick for being responsible for getting Chiara lost & others who I forget -sorry.

On On

Trouser Shredder

AH3 RUN MCCCIV

HAZELHEAD

Hare: GOAT WRESTLER

After a downdown last week for awarding the HORN to a non-frontrunner (on the grounds that it didn’t help the baa-ing pack find the trail without the bother of looking for it) I was this week publicly dithering in the circle over which FRB to delight with the stylish dayglo vest and faulty HORN when the devious RA manoeuvred me into self-awarding.

Three new runners there were, from Vietnam. A pretty one, and two with pretty silly names, which I forget, as I always do. And the lovely Italian, with the lovely little car returned -even after a Farmer run and Sans O BBQ on her first hash last week! With the Hare’s daughter and friend also on this week’s run, the Pack’s average age and attractiveness dramatically fell and rose respectively.

The Hare appeared in civvies, with a complicated tale of gymnastically trying to wrest his wife’s shower gel from her after last week’s run and smashing the bath with his knee in the attempt (doubtless part of an elaborate insurance scam) to compound this tale he claimed to have injured the other knee in setting the run -despite being an old sea dog the hare has two complete legs, and no parrot.

The run itself was fast and no wetter than expected, (the traditional vagueness of route round the crem was included, but no visit to Maidencraig). None lost, no mishaps, a Thain pie, it didn’t rain all the time, what more could you want?

 WOTZOFF

RUN 1302 Rotten O Gairn Wood

Monday 23rd July 2007

Hares: Nipples and No Drugs Man

Scribe : Pigiron

Once again the ugly canker of prejudice invades the hardening arteries of AH3.Meeting at the Ian Oliver Memorial Car Park and deprived of fresh meat, the GM turned nasty, selecting the hapless Pigiron to be Hash Horn and thus Scribe this week. Manfully accepting the challenge, Pigiron (for it was he) prepared himself to lead the pack across the wastelands of Countesswells.

A picture of honed athleticism, he was posed for the off, a coiled spring (albeit from a cuckoo clock), a finely tuned running machine. But no, at the eleventh hour a civilian appeared whining about his car being blocked in by a blue RAV and Pigiron had to release his horn in order to rescue the hash from this embarrassment. Oh! The disappointment, the anguish, the dilemma; duty or fame? Duty prevailed.

With swift efficiency Farmer was recalled to move his car which, miraculously, actually started and kept running long enough to be parked in the ditch, only scraping two other vehicles in the process. The more alert reader will have gathered that by this time the hash would have disappeared into the rain and so it was. Pigiron left to wander the woods alone, again.

And so to the run report: the hash went somewhere. There was a beer stop. Trouser Shredder buggered up her ankle. Nae Knickers suffered a terrible gash. Farmer cared not. It pissed with rain. Most of the hash returned.

It is said that Nipples has a private garage of new cars. Just as well. Pigiron returned to base to find Olymprick sitting quietly, cheap cider in hand, watching No Drugs using the excuse of starting the BBQ to set his Dad’s new Honda alight with a large bottle of fire starter fluid pressed into service as a very effective flamethrower. He failed, so no fun there.

Apparently the RA was at the circle, but he was eclipsed by many witty charges from the mob. One from Aunty Pasta involved a new runner and Champagne, an excellent one from Pigiron re the dramatic car-blocking-in (interrupted by some traffic management issues), countered by Farmer trying to shift the blame, and a rather pathetic reminder from Dada that all this will be under concrete should the AWPR go ahead. Good Grief.

Despite being absent wrestling hydrocarbons from the Antipodes and the Sub-continent, it seems that

• Its All Because has managed 150 runs and was duly awarded the usual quality garment from the Pound Shop.

The hares hosted a post-run BBQ, a gallant effort especially given the weather, but your reporter had to go home for a wee rest and his medicine.

ON ON

Run 1300

Craiglash Quarry

Hare Megane

What 4 scribe reports in a row??!! The hash is really getting spoilt.

After the winter runs of the last few weeks it was incredible that we actually got a brilliant day for the 1300 run and on an Aberdeen holiday as well.

The hare greeted us to the On-On with glasses of Pimm’s to sip in the glorious sunshine while awaiting the hordes. Due to many hashers deciding to believe that the map on the website was actually correct (fools), we were missing quite a few at the start of the run. There were no complaints in the circle however, as one of the AWOL hashers was Numbskull so at least we were spared his usual pre run drivel and Cannae Be Arsed stepped in to award the down down to Mrs T for hashing on AH3 since run #9.

Off up the road with no flour in site for a mile then up round the quarry along nice paths and vicious back checks some shiggy but luckily still no Little Shit to throw it. Good run with everyone kept roughly together until towards the end when the FRB’s broke away. Didn’t do them any good as eventually the FRB’s came to a check only to spot Olymprick coming up a path towards it drinking a beer. Off they dashed past O thinking he had to be coming back from the beer stop. 9 times out of 10 they would have been right but not tonight. It was a nice long back check. Warning - thinking on the hash can be dangerous to your health. Finally everyone got to the beer stop and eventually even found the beer which some latecomers had moved. And it was back to the chariot park where the bubbly was flowing.

Unfortunately as the RA had turned up by the end of the run, he had to do his stuff.

The down downs

• The Lum and Olymprick for firing bubbly corks at the RA

• Piss Poor & Tongue Lasher for hiding the beer stop

•  KY for wanting to start up the lorry

• Toy Boy Tom for going straight

• Aunti Pasta for trying to break through airport security with a 4 x 4 (and nearly succeeding)

• More Butt for Klingon’s baby

• Sans’o for saying “evening gentlemen to a WPC after the Van Morrisson concert at Crathes

• The virgin for not even running

• And the hare. Plus assistant for the suntan and run.

Then on to the feast laid on by the hare followed by Sans’o with his BBQ and then finally tons of strawberries and cream.

Now we know why the run fees went up!! And it was all free. What’s the betting Harley will need another price hike soon.

Got to be THE On-In of the year

Bruce Almighty

Run 1299 -Scolty Hill

The usual motley collection turned up at Scolty car park on an evening which promised rain but in the event didn’t. The circle appeared to form on its own without the GM having to whip it into shape. According to him it was the first run this summer with so many beasties about -there were also a lot of flies bothering us.

An award to JC for his 666th run was followed by the joint hares,

Aids & Cinders, describing how setting the run together was a sure recipe for marital discord, separation and/or divorce. Sounds to me like a good tip for other married couples. Anyway four spots and you’re on they said; four spots together indicated a difference of opinion between Mr & Mrs Hare on which way to set the trail next!

The run was the usual scenic Scolty stuff. Everyone’s been there before and can 2nd guess the hares’ intentions. Or not. Several good checks were followed by a long uphill slog off track and through heather which brought the pack loosely together at the top of Scolty hill. From there it was mostly all downhill (obviously!) to the beer stop and thence back to the car park for more beer.

In the absence of the GM, Numbskull decided not to wait for some missing hashers before starting the ceremonies.

•  Sans ‘O’ got a down down for claiming Glaswegian ancestry at a recent social event. Must have been brought up in Milngavie (Mulguy to the plebs) to have gained a Glaswegian accent like that.

• Canna Be Arsed for his new trainers which he cunningly discarded before the circle, changing into rather swish suede numbers which he refused to drink out of for some reason or another. Something to do with ‘I know what’s been in them’ or similae.

• Olymprick got beer for complaining that someone in the circle was trying to copy his looks. When pressed it was pointed out that there were three other hashers present, all male, with a beard and a belly or, as was pointed out by one of them, three beards and two bellies.

• The two hares got a down down for being overheard at the top of Scolty agreeing with each other that it was a good run, after all the trauma they had earlier described about setting it.

• And finally late down downs to three hares who got totally lost and arrived back at the end of the circle and who are normally first home either through short-cutting or sheer speed -Harley, Hippo and Wotzoff.

Finally don’t forget the Toga party at Mrs T’s place on 1st September. Centurions and Vestal Virgins also accepted, though there’s not many of the latter in AHHH.

Goat Wrestler

ABERDEEN HASH HOUSE HARRIERS

RUN NO. 1298   

29 JUNE 2007

WARREN HILL -DURRIS

HARES PIG IRON & STAINLESS

A lovely crisp cold and wet winter’s evening except that this is June. The car park was a new one to me and to most others though it must have been there for years.

The trail was set by an old man with a pogo stick who explained that the little Hs forming the trail would always be on the right hand side of the trail - except when they were on the left hand side. This information was very helpful for the pack.

The trail was in fact pretty good for an old man, leading us up a road then through very nice woods and fields and grass and bushes and fences and whins and rabbit shit and earth and streams and hills and more shit and clouds and cold and wind and trees and dykes and more grass and birds and styles and more bushes and tracks and back along a tarmac road to the beer stop with sweeties. It was then a gentle on-in downhill to the cars. No-one got lost and all were back in just over an hour. Good run.

Even better than the run though were Olymprick’s chilli pies only five days in the back of his car but with enough chilli to kill off any germs which may have been sniffing around.

 “Slightly neaten up the circle” called GM Watzoff politely before comments on the run were called for. Most agreed that the sheltered beer stop stopped the icy wind chilling the marrow in our bones and all in all it was a good run considering the combined IQ of the hares.

Bruce Almighty was brought in for his driving skills on the way to the hash overtaking KY, our occasional visitor from Qatar, who had been gently cruising along the S Deeside Road in his Jaguar at 95.5 mph in 3rd gear. This apparently was not Hash Etiket

 There was a strange claim that Canna B Arsed was confusing the pack, though that is not difficult, by calling “Checking Ahead” then checking left. Most of the pack were at least a mile behind C B Arsed and were therefore not in the slightest bit aware of the problem.

 Sans “O”’s unique parking style was noted but it was clear that it will never catch on.

 Thanks Hares and hope you enjoyed your meal at The Gillies Lair.

Dear Abby,

I've never written to you before, but I really need your advice.

I have suspected for some time now that my wife has been cheating on me. The usual signs; phone rings but if I answer, the caller hangs up. My wife has been going out with “the girls” a lot recently although when I ask their names she always says, “Just some friends from work, you don't know them.”

I always try to stay awake to look out for her coming home, but I usually fall asleep. Anyway, I have never approached the subject with my wife. I think deep down I just didn't want to know the truth, but last night she went out again and I decided to really check on her.

 Around midnight, I decided to hide in the garage behind my golf clubs so I could get a good view of the whole street when she arrived home from a night out with “the girls”. When she got out of the car she was  buttoning up her blouse, which was open and she took her panties out of her purse and slipped them on. It was at that moment, crouching behind my clubs, that I noticed that the graphite shaft on my driver appeared  to have a hairline crack right by the club head.

 Is this something I can fix myself or should I take it back to the pro shop where I bought it?

 Perplexed

Hash Run No.1297  

Hare: Drill Bit

Location: Banchory Business Park

Why oh why did I volunteer to be this week’s scribe?

A glorious Monday evening, well compared with the previous weekend it was and with a small pack of about 25 runners, yours truly gathered round the circle, welcomed any visitors, there were none and look around the circle for a willing hasher to take on the role of scribe. As there was not sign of Wotzoff, The Ythan challenge must have taken some casualties, Willie, Becky and Plonker were also absent, Aids told me that is was not a good week for him, my other ego took over and now you are all stuck with this dribble for posterity.

To crown this whole miss understanding, Numbskull awarded me a pre run down down, to slow me down by any chance, not much chance going fast, my fitness is fading like the natural colour of my beard, used to be dashing brownish Red.

The one and only announcement made by Hillary for finally collecting enough charity money so he and Glasgow can finally call it day this year with over £4000 collected since there campaign started, well done. Must admit I enjoyed the band, Easy Peasy on Saturday evening in the Hogs Head, a worthy venue for our X-mass outing T-Bits and I promptly decided and with no dissention during this impromptu AH3 Committee meeting, we decided this to be the venue, alas did not have a mandate so will need a full AH3 committee meeting to ratify. T-Bits was not the only other hasher present, ably accompanied by Silly Cow, we had a nice time dancing, drinking and winning raffle prizes, well at least one of did, isn’t that right T-Bits, the malt whiskey will go down well!

The hash party later expanded by another wayward hasher Struth who joined us during the last dance and lead us astray by offering us lifts home, gratefully accepted, not to have to carry this heavy load of raffle prizes won!

Anyway back to the run, never saw much of the flour once we started the long trek along the railway line, little diversion into Crathes castle grounds did not fool me, it did JC who duly disappeared. I believed this run would go as far as Milton of Crathes, alas still no flour to be found until I climbed the hill at the entrance to be confronted by a check. Path lead off into the quarry and back up to be met by hashers running all over the place, which lead me to believe I just witnessed a figure of eight run going wrong Drill Bit?

Not long after that was joined by The Penguin, White Trash and Nipples, who believed that I know where I was going, silly mistake to make by these obvious novice hashers? Well I did manage to get them to go past the pond up the hill where Aids, Auntie Pasta and JC were guarding two sweetie bags. Nice one, back on track and The Penguin and I ran up the farm track, only way out since our hare did mention we had to go via a farm and to be quiet doing so, the cows assembled were staring a lot at The Penguin, who knows what he gets up to in the far east?

After this remarkable quiet section of the run, a check on the road side got me confused as a perfectively form path lead of the road, a veritable hashers highway but not to be that evening. It required a slight course correction to take us to a field from where Ron and I could see the business park and so missed the beer stop.

Never did stay for the down downs so you will have to fill in the blanks yourself, a good run worthy in length for consideration of a prize at the AGM this year

Your roving reporter and hash scribe

Harley

Beasts of Bennachie

Run 1295, 04 July 2007

Location: Bennachie Centre

Hares: White Trash, Bruce Almighty

A moderate turnout for a cool but pleasant evening run in a great location, ideal hashing conditions.

I arrived early at the Bennachie Centre to find only the hares, who were discussing whether they could use the 2 1/2 bags of flour, left over from the 13 they bought for the run, in the cooking for the post-run barbecue.

 We were joined by Tom, a new runner. Tom told us he had the choice of joining the Aberdeen hash or the Territorial Royal Marines Mountain Attack Team, but chose us because the navy uniforms weren’t butch enough. However, as he eyed up the perfectly toned bodies of the three superfit athletes before him (White T, Bruce A and T.Rex C), you could see him thinking that perhaps he had taken on a challenge too far. Would he be able to keep up? Fortunately the next to arrive were our distinguished OAHs, including the gnarled and wizened figure of our own venerable, if not revered, GM, who reassured him that AH3 catered for mere mortals as well as superheroes.

 I happened to mention to the GM that, ensconced in my tax retreat in the more rural parts of Ruritania, I hadn’t able to keep up with the wanderings of the AH3 tribe due to the continuing failure of scribes to fulfil their duties. [Missing scribes -you know who you are -send us something for the run you were covering. H-Hare] and was duly given the responsibility of scribe for this run. Being an expat, I had no paper to cal my own, and so I apologies for any small errors that might have crept into this account due to failing memory.

The Penguin was a fellow returner from his latest world hash tour of Australia and the south of England. As was Megane, who turned up attached to a white rat she referred to as Farmer. This animal distinguished itself by trying to ferret up several hashers legs, but failed to be seen on the run itself. (Like his namesake.)

The hares gave the usual pre-run explanation of why we would be unlikely to find any flour between checks, which suggested that they must have been completely blotto when they set it. Off we went, heading away from the hill. Remarkably, there was an abundance of flour on a tree marking the first devious route deviation, an abundance the front runners managed to run right past. There was some good running through forest and along tracks, with the added bonus that the never seemed to pick up where you thought. However, we then had a longish stretch along tarmac accompanied by Bruce Almighty muttering, “I’m sure I hid flour behind that stone.” “I’m sure we marked the trail around about here:” Were you in the same county when you set the run Bruce?

 Due to the danger of the pack spreading out across the highlands searching for flour at every check, your horny scribe felt obliged to stay at the front of the pack and parp his little horn, rather than his usual amble along at the rear. Consequently I only caught a little of the usual run gossip, which I have summarised below. The only bit I can remember was that Sergio and One Foot have given up outdoor sex and started a 150 miles per day cycling regime in preparation for the forthcoming Tour de France. Sergio reckons the upside of losing weight and getting fitter outweighs the drawback of callouses on the bum. Purely in journalistic interests I then took the opportunity to examine One Foot’s bottom very closely. I can confirm that every little bit appeared to be in perfect condition. I decided a similar check on Sergio would be pointless.

 I did overhear part of an interesting discussion about how global warming would affect the hash. Apparently next years’ skispedition has been cancelled in favour of a bog-snorkelling trip to Thailand.

Oh yes, I forgot. Sir Edmond Hillary told me how excited he was getting about the midsummer rave up he is organising at the Hogshead. Disappointingly, Englebert Humperdinck has had to cry off at the last minute, but Hillary has secured half of the original Black and White Minstrels for what should be a groovy evening.

 After leaping across streams, plodging through boggy bits, and clambouring over too much barbed wire, we came onto a track I recognised from last year’s Bennachie Midsummer Run (unaccountably not voted run of the year). However, instead of turning west to follow a pretty stream up to the nirvana of Bennache north, we headed south. This could only mean one thing. Aghast, I took a sharp gulp of mountain air. Could the hares be so cruel? What was that looming ahead? Was it? Could it possibly be? [Literary note. This device of repeated rhetorical questions and ellipses to try an enliven an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative was first employed by Capt.W.E:Johns in “Biggles Flies One-Handed” (Hodder & Stoughton, 1943) and used subsequently in every Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. Ed.)

Yes. The fabled Bennachie West face route. Hashers have not ventured up this route since the “Massacre of the Innocents” hash of 1976, when Piss Poor spent three days on the mountain trying to find her way back from a false trail down an unsuspecting ghillie. Obviously White Trash and Bruce Almighty had not listened to the local’s tales of the two lost hashers whose bodies were never found on the upper inclines of the West Face route (and, what’s worse, to this day, we don’t know whether they got the beer stop or not).

I saw Tom the new runner forge on ahead, unaware of the possible danger. Weren’t The Penguin and Hippo there to warn him about the beast? At least Bruce A had the foresight to provide a detour for the smallest (and tastiest) hasher present, Nipples’ lad, so he would at least live to tell the tale what could happen near the summit.

 Sanso and Mrs.T did their best to keep our spirits up during the dreaded climb. Sanso gave us an interesting lecture on the cost/performance ratios for the various patented under-floor heating systems he has been testing. And Mrs.T was very erudite on the sexual pleasures to be got from electric fencing. Hair-raising! The climb gave us some pretty views over the mist clouds. And fortunately the upward trail quickly gave over to a rapid downhill descent eminently suited to T.Rex physiognomy. At the bottom, most of the ladies got confused by the presence of flour, which they chose to ignore, and therefore arrived late at the beer stop. But not as late as Numbskull, who had decided to make a solo run. And give or take a stop for One Foot and Toy Boy Tom to admire an old ruin or two, or possibly themselves that was the end of the trail.

 As he missed out on the gossip, Numbskull wasn’t able to entertain the circle with any made-up tales of alleged misdemeanours. However, down-downs went to Megane for having two wee ones, to Tom for being a new runner and to Sanso and Numbskull for being Sanso and Numbskull.

White Trash was by now cooking non-vegetarian beef burgers and one hundred percent guaranteed meat substitute processed steaks for the winding down barbecue. And Cinders, the stand-in hash beer, had left us some cans to wash it down with.

This is what hashing is all about. Another candidate for run of the year.

T.Rex Cock

Lang may yer LUM reak, and langstracht may yer Hash be!

Scrib of Aberdeen Hash #1294, May 28th, 2007, by (The) Lum

Fittingly, your correspondent was chosen as scribe on the occasion of his 200th run award (a nice bottle green sweat shirt with the appropriate embroidery), though one might argue Struth’s 350th run (award) at the same on-on circle might have merited the honour even more. The honour of scribe was however motivated by your correspondent’s unselfish assistance to the RA (Woz-on, aka Cosmic Willie) who was not in control of his harriettes’ chatter, but so is life!

 It seems appropriate on this occasion to dwell on my joining the Hash some 10 years ago, in January 1997. Having found info on Hash members, and the venue, I phoned an honourable member asking for the directions to Ben-akky, to which Hippo politely advised me how best to get to Ben A-hee, without a hint of irony. So, well advised on both location and some Gaelic pronunciation I went on to partake in the run. Near the end, running downhill (literally) towards the on-inn (probably ‘Esson’s Car Park’), I decided to regain some strength, and squatted to light my cigar. Fellow runners might have misinterpreted my act, and found themselves supported by the unidentified smoke produced, but then saw me rejoining the run whilst smoking my cigar. At the circle I was promptly, and deservedly, named The Lum, or just LUM, after having been nameless for a couple of hashing years, and I am still proudly carrying my handle! So much for my first AH3 run, just one mention of a later run north(west) of Banchory, on May 8th that year, when it actually snowed! Perhaps not entirely surprising, in retrospect! I had arrived in Aberdeen with some prejudice, however, which though it was also later confirmed (e.g. the splendid climate of Aberdeen), meant that I was prepared for Aberdeen, and have never regretted the move, though I could at the time have been persuaded by good arguments (and pay) to stay in Bath!

Back to the present, the 1294th run was the day after the Aberdeen Baker-Hughes 10 k run, in which a number of hashers had participated, including your correspondent, and the Hares. I can proudly and truthfully claim to have done best, since I finished in a number of minutes less than my age in years, which result was not achieved by any of the other participants (as far as I am informed).

 Speaking of age, the honourable RA gave the on-on down-down award to his son-in-common-law, Willie or Canna-be-arsed for reaching 2/3 of his own age (it is something with “NN, and over the hill!”).

 One might have thought, that after spraining his foot on the last run, and making a point out of it (that of course would not apply to your correspondent who, only in passing, mentions that he did so during this very run without complaints, or moans), doing the 10 k the day before, and setting this run in the morning, then Cba and his co-hare, Becky Trouser-shredder who had been through the same (not spraining her foot, though, but presumably hearing about it) would have opted for a light ‘de-tox’ run, to get out of the apparent and unhealthy addiction to long-distance running, or would one not have thought so? Never-the-less, one would have been wrong! On this evening, in miserable weather (though better than what was to follow the days after), worse than at the 10 k, the hares had decided for a 12 k run (or thereabout)!

Anyway, the run got off to its start from the Cheyne Hill golf course, where Numbscull of course decided to run across the fairway (Alas, being hit by a golf ball could of course not make much brain damage in his case)!

 The run was counter-clockwise which has the disadvantage that you would miss the sunset while running back to the on-inn, but unfortunately this was not an issue on this run, as hinted at. The run went north-east, then turned along Slug Road in good distance, and partly through very nice, at times spectacular territory, but midway, I think, we got into some area which had been subjected to the treatment of the Deforestation Commission: that was hard work, up and over the Hill of Swanley (or wherever), and then a fairly flat, but long gently downhill run from Fetteresso Forest to the beer stop, a stone’s throw (well a good one) up from the on-on/on-inn car park.

 For some reason (could it be the cold, wet, windy, and miserable weather?) there was not a lot of ceremony after the two-hour run, but Hillary got a prestigious down-down award for having lit up the (advertised) barbeque with no meat or otherwise to grill, and Sans-0 who had promised to bring the meat, amazingly did not get a down-down for this (no justice in this world)! I am not quite sure whether the hares got theirs.

Hence the hungry hashers sped off for the Marine Hotel in Stonehaven Harbour, which allegedly was still serving food at 9.30 pm.

Aberdeen Hash House Harriers Run 1291

 Hare: Megane

 OnOn: Bridge of Feugh Car Park, Banchory

 OnInn: Scott Skinners, Banchory

 Scribe: Fifi

GM Wotzoff called the pack to order and my incredulity at his boast of a scribe having been written for last week’s run resulted in my mysteriously being picked on to write about this week’s. Only later did I discover the reason for his pride -he had resorted to writing it himself.

Prerun Down Down went to Cannae Be Arsed for attempting to conceal from the RA the presence of copious quantities of Hash beer in his car boot.

A mercifully short briefing from the Hare set the overall tone for the run as the pack headed off along the road towards the bridge and the first check. Some curious souls checked across the bridge whilst those with brains headed south up the road. The trail soon branched off into the woods (note the careful use of verb here along a gentle uphill track before an arrow commanded the pack to turn steeply right up through the trees. All except The Penguin and Olymprick followed orders, with the uphill climb separating the men from the boys and girls (so to speak).

I was fortunately delayed listening to the combined laments of Sans O and Eric “Down Down” Brown on the parlous state of Aberdeen’s transport infrastructure and hence arrived at the next check with More Butt just as the front of the pack was returning downhill from an apparently long and crafty back check.

I was too busy discussing the merits of shrubs over perennials, and bark mulch over soil with More Butt to take much notice of where we headed next but a number of checks, one road-crossing and several leafy trails later we happened upon a bench at the edge of the woods where three trolls (Penguin, Sergio and Hippo) sat drinking beer.

A longish jog back along the South Deeside Road brought the majority of the pack back to the cars within an hour of setting off. Now that’s the sort of run we should have more of.

Down Downs were awarded (in no particular order) to:

•  The Returners - Eric “Down Down” Brown (after 21 years away) and Batty (recovering from the delights of India)

•  Mrs T - for failing to offer any juicy gossip to the RA

•  Piss Poor - for attempting to block political progress in Edinburgh with a Subaru

•  Olymprick - for failing to set a good example to the Virgins on how to follow trail

•  Irene and Nicola -Virgin Hashers

•  Numbskull - for his VPL

•  Sans O - for attempting to dispose of some full bottles of beer in the car park litter bin

•  Megane - the Hare

OnOn to Scott Skinners for some of the more social (or hundgry) souls. 

Run; 1290

Hare; Toy Boy Tom

Where; Nigg Bay

When; Yesterday

Scribe; Not since 1283

Welcome to “Toy Boy Tom's Titillatingly Tremendous Trot around the Gramps”   we were all greeted with at the pre run circle along with a bizarre   explanation about back checks being T's, and F's being long and J's are   short and bloody hell was I giving up the will to live at that point.

Confused looks and baffled brains ensued almost immediately. Never try to be too clever with an intro to the run after being compared by the RA. It's a sure fire loser as the Hash normally takes at least to the beer check to figure out what he was on about.

If you must know, it was 600 runs for Cinders (Bet she overtakes Aids and his 666 run tally before she allows him back to the Hash) and 150 for Plonker. Hurrah for the Ladies.

And the on-on's that way, but there's no flour so if you follow the Hare he'll lead you to the first check and we were off. Off up over the Gramps (can we rename these hills the Farmers being as he's a Gramp now) and zagzigging   our way up and over and under various obstacles that seemed to serve no greater purpose than to remind us that Hares as a rule are a shower off devious shites.

Excellent runners run requiring innate amounts of skill and cunning to stay on trail to the beer check, (Did anyone see Harley and Penguin at the beer?) which was situated in an idyllic bay overlooking the flotsam and jetsam of   the North Sea. Or Olymprick sitting on a big metal box, you decide.

That's it, the run was over and back to the cars for the circle we headed in a moderately shambolic fashion.

Down-downs went to

• Farmer for being a Grampa.

• Thruppennybits for being another year prettier.

• Numbskull for using other peoples cars to stop his rather than brake.

• Pigiron for a severe case of wife beating.

• New runners for being brave enough to join us.

• The Lum for being Danish.

• Cannae Be Arsed for being non PC.

• Toy Boy Tom for being the Hare.

Probably some other people who I've managed to forget. Oooooops!

Till next time. CBA.

RUN 1283

11th March 2007

Hares: Mad Cyclist & Bogbrush  

Scribe: Sergio

Location: Kirkhill Forest

I’m so glad that GM WATSOFF called upon me to be this week’s scribe, because when I polled my mighty AH3 database of useful facts on my return I discovered that I was now leading the AH3 all-time list of hash pounds. Yes, yours truly has dragged more lard, more avoirdupois, round the towns and countryside of the North East than any other hasher!! Perhaps I should explain: hash pounds are a simple measure of number of runs completed times the weight of the runner! Cast your eye over the following table:

Handle                                      hash pounds

1. Sergio                                  98400

2. Little Shit                       98325

3. Aids                                  97150

4. Harley                                  96560

5. Olymprick                      96000

6. Hippo                              95850

7. J.C.                                    93100

8. The Penguin                 91000

9. Michelin Man 89265

10. Cinders                                81000

11. Wild Local                     80800

12. Farmer                                80700

13. Pink Panther 75400

14. Thruppeny Bits            69550

15. Fifi                                      68292

Sorry I haven’t had time to do you all but this is enough to be going on with. I think it is worth noting that while both Olymprick and Penguin are fat they are also very short. Michelin Man was of course much slimmer when he was a younger man, and I would say Farmer should be allowed more second helpings!!! This is of course a dynamic situation, changing weekly, so I will do my very best to keep you all up to date. We’d better all watch out for Bruce Almighty cos he’s shooting up the charts like err, like Michael Vaughan’s batting average. And what about England on Sunday afternoon then.. Better not get me started!!

Oh, yes. The run. We welcomed Its All Because, returning briefly from Mumbai, plus one new runner. No awards, not much in the way of instructions (nice day though) and we were swiftly off. It was Kirkhill Forest run 2A, and as scribe I was keeping up with the FRB’s (you know who you are) until I broke a check with One Foot and lost the trail. Thinking it was KF run 2C I went further off trail before backtracking and then had to trundle on on my own all the way to the beer stop. That took an hour, and it was a short jog back to the cars from there.

Then horror of horrors - no gluevine!! Hash Beer deemed it too warm to warrant a hot drink at the end of the run. He was given a down-down as was Trouser Shredder (innocent IMHO) and a few others whom I have mercifully forgotten.

That was it. We then buggered off.

ON ON, SERG

Hash Run Number: 1278

Date: Sunday 4th February 2007

Hare: Sergio

Scribe: Sir Edmund Hill-ary

GM: Willie Wotzoff

RA: Numbskull who arrived flying the Saltire at half-mast -see below.

Pre-run Circle

2 visitors: Maria and Sylvia -will we ever see them again?

Harley for Scotland beating Holland at cricket.

Megane for being totally inept and asking the way to on-on.

AIDS for getting closer to his 666 shirt.

On-On

Segio laid a very interesting run around Culter ending up on the old railway line for a beer stop. I got lost and consequently have nothing to report.

The scenery was enjoyed by everyone especially as it will be under a 4 lane highway next time Sergio sets a run here.

Post Run Circle

• Sir Edmund Hillary thanked the hash for contributing to Glasgow’s fund raising effort by giving £374 but gave Numbskull a down down for leaving 2 hash shirts at Glasgow’s Place the week before.

• Sans O for thinking he could do better than a male strip-o-gram at the Hash Chinese night out.

• Dad Dad, Thrupenny bits and Farmer for becoming misguided and finding a sign “if you find this sign you are not on the hash!”

• Farmer for the England’s rare rugby success against Scotland.

• Penguin kindly donated the beer left over (and on sale!) from last week hash to hash-beer. Hill-ary is still awaiting payment!

On-Inn

The Ploughman’s in Culter.

They made us very welcome and we didn’t get banned -at least until I left.

Hi All and Hash Beer in particular,

Did anyone pick up a Renault car key at the circle after today's run? Black, not on a key ring and maybe dropped into Hash Beer’s boot in the clamour for gluhwein. I opened my car at the end of the run so lost it between then and leaving (or not leaving as it happened!). Many thanks to Harley who was the only hasher left while I was frantically searching and who thankfully had a mobile - I phoned “she who stays at home”, hinted she should fetch the spare key, started to say where the On-On was near Garlogie when Harley's mobile battery ran out!

Now for the good bit (Scribe to note this as accompaniment for, or instead of, the write-up) -

Concerned that Maggie wouldn't find me before I froze, I hashed towards the junction at the end of the minor road towards Banchory. Either she had put the foot down or I was slow, coz she had whizzed by and done the full Garlogie tour before finding the EMPTY Scenic. Says she got out and called my name loudly for a while - touching, eh? Using female powers of deduction when dealing with incompetent males, she then made another loop of Garlogie and we were joylessly reunited - by this time I was frozen. Then both back to the On-On and more fruitless searching. Before heading back home in both cars I told Maggie about the armed police presence at the gas pumping station and wondered if our antics had been noted.

YES, apparently! As we turned right at the junction for Banchory, the police Landover was sitting there. I thought, they'll note the car regs and relax after checking we are bone fide local residents. WRONG - Police raided us at home half an hour later! Had to explain our suspicious behaviour, in particular the 3 circuits of the pumping station. Also, had to explain hashing (again), and why we picked Garlogie??  I convinced him hashing was harmless by showing him sample e-mails about hash events but not any photographs! I did not mention police states, cash for honours or down-downs, speaking of which thank goodness I'm not Numbskull who always gets several. Our by-now friendly policeman then had a pow-wow with anti-terrorism HQ and left (there was a bit where the other end were obviously querying what the “hashing” thing was!). He did ask where we were hashing next week before leaving - suggest you leave the fancy dress at home, Numbskull.

Can Hash Beer please look in the boot.

On-On, Whinger