Scribes

RUN
MCCLIX
BENEATH THE DURRIS MAST

Setting a precedent for what will undoubtedly be a year of increasingly inexplicable, bizarre and irrational pretexts for Down Downs, the new RA (and Hare for the run) Numskull, gave the new GM a pre-run Down Down for:
a) Arriving at the runsite in good time
 b) Reading a newspaper in a car rather than outside in torrential rain.
And this was after the novice GM had already, chivalrously, volunteered himself for the task of horn tooter and scribe!
The aforementioned torrential rain continued for the first half of the run while the small, but perfectly formed, pack tortuously followed a trail which teasingly toyed with the prospect of going all the way up the hill to the Durris mast- meanwhile the hare pedalled around smirking, pausing to grimace gnomically at the checks.
Around the midpoint of the run the rain stopped and was replaced by a thick mist, but by then visibility was not an issue as the trail had left the dripping trees and puddled tracks and after a few stream crossings (of the same stream each time of course) the eccentrically floured trail was meandering through a dense mile or so of over head high ferns, doubtless hopping with sheep ticks.
Eventually, the hare in his usual devastatingly immaculate, stylish and fashionable grey track suit was found grinning by a beercheck in the trees at the top of an endless sodden field. Thereafter, back to circle and a probably vain attempt to persuade culture shocked visitor Dock Leaf (most curiously, there were few nettles on the run) that AH3 does not habitually run in territory that most runners on UK hashes would hesitate to send their dogs to shit in. (As she had been led to expect snow at this time of year the weather had been a pleasant surprise.)
A new Hashit was flourished, Christened with mud and beer, but not awarded.
Wotzoff