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Run 1312 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 sunburn, 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?? AND 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. 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
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