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Hash Run 1364 from Duthie Park on Monday 22nd September 2008
was brought to you by Nipples & Megane - reminiscences by JC
Those arriving at the riverside car park for this last run Monday hash of the year, confusingly found themselves cajoled by the hash signs into making their entrance via the exit. Was this a portent of things to come? Perhaps Glasgow thought so, since after delivering Hill-ary safely she made a swift departure. Now that these two barely manage a full job between the two of them, we might have assumed that she would be short of interesting things to do – but no, there was always young Christopher to ferry around as well!
By the stroke of seven Megane had already uplifted the aforesaid Hash Signs, thus denying their assistance to the usual clutch of late arrivals such as Numbskull and Struth.
Whitetrash’s kindness in reserving for Numbskull a gargantuan parking space, into which he was just about able to shoehorn his stately carbon emissions factory, was deservedly rewarded with a pre-run D2. The power crazed eye of Sergio lingered menacingly…..probably simply admiring my fine athletic physique I half-heartedly persuaded myself, only to feel the weight of the scribing accoutrements descend upon my person
Bruce Almighty ambled into a short lived and not to be repeated leadership position, coaxing us, in the rapidly failing daylight, past a clutch of would-be sergeant majors, all remorselessly drilling their disciples. My Scribe Horn emitted some pathetic little tooting noises as I encouraged the faithful to follow the only true path – but since it transpired that this did not after all include the disused railway line, myself and Cannae be Arsed were forced to break sweat in order to catch up. As a precaution we also broke step whilst using the old bridge to cross the Dee. Drillbit was doing his recuperation effort no end of harm as he wheezed his way towards HM ‘halls of residence for errant souls’. Then an unexpected left turn put yours truly back in a commanding lead, I mean role, and as we traversed Torry the Hash Horn actually proved its usefulness as a means of warning errant pavement cyclists of impending overtaking manoeuvres by pedestrians.
Having only recently been granted outright ownership of her man, Trouser Shredder doggedly (more on this phenomenon later) kept tabs on him so as to pre-empt any likelihood of strained ankles or other debilitating injuries. Returning back along the banks of the Dee, the trail approached perilously close to the OnOn, although to their credit most of the company did remain on trail, continuing to search in the gloom for evidence of flour.
The trail wound its way through Ferryhill and Holburn before cutting through the dead centre of town, where the spooky darkness of the cemetery brought One Foot up short. FRB Sergio was unavailable for hand holding duties, but it turned out that anyone with a big enough head-torch was in with a chance, and apparently after fierce competition Sans O convinced her that his was the biggest.
Back within Duthie Park the Beer Check was to be found at the top of the rose garden. Although this was no full scale Munroe, Thruppennies did seem heartened to discover that the summit was marked by a welcoming park bench, rather than the anticipated trig point. One Liner too, sat down to rest his weary back, and doubtless ponder awhile upon the effect of the credit crunch on the local housing market. The panoramic views across the lush parklands and the meandering river, not to mention the rolling wastelands of Tullos industrial estate, were undoubtedly somewhat muted by the inky blackness of the night. The distant drone of an aeroplane cut across the contented slurping of beer, and the magic of the moment was lost.
A hop, skip and a jump later, and the RA was indulging in the usual lengthy perorations which, to cut some very long stories short, resulted in misdemeanour awards being foisted upon:
Whinger, for being oblivious to the double entendre inherent in his misuse of the word dogging as a family pet word for ‘walking the dog’ (until his concerned daughter more fully explained to him the perils of haunting car parks and wooded areas after dark).
Trouser Shredder, who reportedly waved her tits at a dogger in the park (these allegations of outdoor exhibitionism were subsequently doggedly rebutted). She was joined by hubby, who maintained that his persistent front running ill afforded him any time to commune with the swinger community.
Numbskull –any reason suffices.
New runners Jenny, Susie and Amber – presumably to ensure they wouldn’t return.
Returner ‘No Handle Henry’, and ‘Golly’, his offspring (for no longer living up to his handle).
Megane and Nipples for laying copious amounts of flour.
Eventually the circle broke up whereupon, enticed by the promise of free sandwiches at the Inn at the Park (thanks Nipples), a goodly portion of the group adjourned to said hostelry for refreshments.
JC
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