RUN 1371 Finzean

Sunday 9th November 2008

Hare: Plonker avec chien

Scribe: Pigiron

To my deep and lasting regret I was unable to attend the AGM this year, owing to a massive scheduling cock-up on the part of the outgoing GM who confused the AGM dates with Up Helly Aa. As a result I was unable to witness the appalling breakdown in Parliamentary procedure that has led to us not having a proper RA this year. Lacking imagination and fall guys, mismanagement has fallen back on an “RA by appointment” system (if system be the right word). Or to put it another way, the “Oh shit, no RA, let’s find a sucker quick” ploy. This week I contemptuously spurned this pathetic approach, so to gain his petty revenge the GM landed me the enviable job of composing this drivel once more. Not that you gentle reader, gives a toss, but just for the record the RA post was shared by Twizzle and Little Shit. A trouble shared is a trouble doubled sez I.

Ok, so what of the run?

Well how do you expect me to know? I do know that it was held in the dark Bad Lands to the West, where nothing is what it seems. “Finzean”. How do you pronounce that? Ask a local troglodyte the way to Strachan and he will fall about in xenophobic ecstasy that you haven’t left out most of the letters in the name. I am told that in the summer couthie chiels hang about the B974 just for the joy of directing unwary colonials. Tillyfruskie? Don’t be silly. Thank God we never have hashes at Findochty.

Anyway, I had a nice walk with the cripples and heard more hash gossip than is good for my tender ears, so that’s OK. My lovely wife returned with muddy feet, so that’s alright. Sans “O” got lost and was redirected by a girl, so that’s normal. T-Rex Cock didn’t get lost, so that’s a miracle. The wind blew a hooligan and there was no gluhwein. Oh. My. God. Words fail me and I haven’t had my tablets today, so on to the circle:

• Twizzle was downed for new shoes, but no beer-in-shoe humiliation.

• Ah well Sans’O’, T-Rex Cock, Little Shit, The Penguin and Nipples had a drink in recognition of their fine knees, fashionably turning deeper shades of blue in the balmy breezes. Perhaps the shorts should be shot and laid to rest for a while?

• Oneliner was given an out of hash time reward for becoming tired and emotional at Twizzle’s equinoctial party and then setting his clock two hours forward.

• We had a visitor from Daneland who used to be called Harley, but he vamoosed before the circle and could not be singled out for taunting. I wonder if he paid his subs……..yes, of course he did. Yeah.

• Plonker as the sole hare got her down and then we all buggered off to Scott Skinners. Except for Sans’O’ as per usual, who decided to lead a splinter group to the Feuchside Inn. And why not? Surprised he didn’t bring the BBQ and Ice Bar.

On On

Run 1369

Hunter’s Hill

26 October 2008-11-02

Hares: Trouser Shredder & Cannae B’arsed

Scribe: Whinger

Thanks to an e-mail from the hare, AH3 put their clocks back and had an extra hour in bed before heading for Hunter’s Hill on a cool and windy but bright autumn morning.

Pre-run DDS went to

Sergio for his new Goretex shoes and to:

Little Shit for 900 runs. This achievement was marked with a £25 voucher for the Running Shop to buy one left shoe doubled up by the Running Shop so look out for Little Shit wearing his two new left shoes.

Leeky Willie was introduced as a visitor from Wales who it seems had the horror (sorry, honour) of meeting Olymprick at Cardiff Interhash 2004. Leeky Willie has apparently spent the last 4 years searching for Olymprick to give him a Cardiff Interhash T-shirt and this was duly presented and writhed into by Olymprick.

Over to the hares, Trouser Shredder and Cannae B’arsed for run info. AH3 have been on Fasque Estate only once before, when Farmer set an A to B run and really upset them by not asking. Rumour has it that guns were involved.

This time Trouser Shredder contacted them, they were very helpful and OK’d the trail but warned there was a shooting party out so hashers wearing bright colours will either be safe or not. Runners were asked not to be noisy when approaching game birds to avoid startling them. Being noisy is reserved for beaters just before the birds get startled big time.

On-on and the pack headed off up the northern flank of Hunter’s Hill on what proved to be a longish run of 5 miles or so. Trouser Shredder was well pleased that it was much longer for the front runners who did all of the long back checks, including a hellish grind up Garrol Hill, being assured by Trouser Shredder “Yep, that way’s fine”.

Farmer being Farmer ran through an early back check and disappeared in the direction of “The King’s Deer Park” apparently convinced that the trail must lead to Clattering Brig. Whinger managed to locate a hidden trip wire for the rest of the hash, executing a dramatic full forward summersault with pike in the process.

The humbug stop provided welcome relief in the form of a guid sook then the going got boggy with wet feet for all except Sergio, who was also chuffed to achieve a dry first crossing of the Garoll Burn. The second crossing was more of a wade but I forgot to ask how Sergio how his Goretex linings performed under a foot of water.

Otherwise a fairly uneventful run or so it seemed as the pack gathered at the welcome beer check. But both Farmer and T-Rex Cock haven’t been seen for a while, not like Farmer to be late at the beer – perhaps been run off the estate again at gunpoint? True to form he eventually he shows up from his Clattering Brig detour. There is still no sign of TRC as we head for the car park.

The circle proves to be quite lengthy and entertaining:

Acting RA is Little Shit.

Sat Nav announces her birthday bash with a belly dancing theme, girls only, lady bouncer on the door. The circle wants to know what the qualifications are to be a lady bouncer! Sat Nav gives a suggestive belly dancing demo and gets a down down. Leeky Willie steps forward with a Dubai Hash story. Red Dress Run – beer stop – police sirens approaching. Leeky Willie decides its best to ditch the red dress by stuffing it down his shorts. When police arrive he is semi-naked, drinking beer and appears to have a “large package”. Leeky Willie and a few other Dubai hashers spend some time in back of police cars. Dubai police miss big opportunity by not checking adjacent On Inn as the host Rectum from Wrexham had no liquor licence!

Leeky Willie then produces his Dubai red dress from down his shorts and presents it to Olymprick. It goes on “next to the skin”, not a pretty sight but it gets Olymprick an instant invite to Sat Nav’s belly dancing party. Olymprick is joined for his down down by Nae Knickers for her not knowing what an AGPU is. Whinger also gets a down down for his Trip of the Day.

Being from Wales, Leeky Willie is invited to sing and gives a rendition of a German hash song from Indonesia “Mitt my hands on myself”, ably accompanied by the AH3 choir.

I did say this was lengthy circle – its been going for about an hour and there is still no sign of T-Rex Cock. Someone seems to think it’s relevant that he was last seen with only one glove.

Back to circle business.

Downs Downs to the hares with a special mention for the quality of the back checks.

• Little Shit gets a late down down for attempting to put his central heating clock back an hour when it apparently had a mind of its own.

• Hashers are by now sneaking off as this circle is never ending.

• Leeky Willie has found second wind and invites Harriet’s to play charades. Youthful harriettes are rejected for chivalrous reasons that are now no doubt appreciated by Jonathan Ross &Russell Brand. More mature harriettes Nae Nickers and?? Are coaxed to participate. They fail to guess a straight-forward charade – Film- 4 words, etc. - The King & I, preferring instead to shout a string of obscenities to a grateful Leeky Willie who gets the final (thank God) down down as The Entertainer.

Concern mounts for T-Rex Cock - lost, a fall or worse, hypothermia (after all he only has one glove), mistaken for a deer, aliens? Trouser Shredder and others head off to cover the whole trail again while Nipples does it backwards. Scribe is later reliably informed that TRC was found by Nipples – on trail. They get back to the on-on around 2.30pm, i.e. a 3.5 hour hash run for TRC. This must be a record, but then records are made to be broken.

Whinger

Run: 1368

Date: Sunday 19th October 2008

Hares: Megane & Nipples

Scribe: Toy Boy Tom

A weather window opened for the Hash at Banchory Business Park on an otherwise wintery day. But too late for the Hares, who’d laid the trail in the morning in the rain, poor things. Still, it proves that the sun shines on the righteous? For the Hashers, righteous fellows and fellowesses they are, picked-up discarded bags of flour they found unrighteously strewn along the trail (well, 2 bags anyway!). Claims by the Hares in the circle that the bags were from the wrong supermarket may have been quick-thinking but only resulted in the inevitable: down-downs for wasting such a valuable commodity!

As the big hand on Sergio’s watch reached 12, the Hash started promptly (yes, on time - the little hand was on 11, not 12!) and the Hashers set off, fears that most of the flour was on Megan’s jacket rather than on the ground proved false – just showing that Nipples has a better flour laying technique than Megan – well, naturally, Nipples is a bloke!

Some were inspired along the dots of flour by the intrigue of the trail, some by the thought that this cannot be another back-check, others by the thought of the beer stop and others by Puss-in-Boots saying that she was going to strip! After a tantalising pause, Puss-in-Boots finished both the inspiration and her sentence by adding that she was going to strip her front door!

To the beer stop, where all complemented the Hares on a well-laid trail along the paths and boardwalks of Crathes Castle. Fortunately, balance was provided by Bruce Almighty when he arrived mouthing what a b***** terrible trail it had been!

A pause before the circle commenced to enable T-Rex Cock to arrive, smiling broadly. Not quite sure what he’d been up to in the forest but he had been too late to join the beer stop. Beer – the point of the run - was something that had to be explained to Puss-in-Boots as she supped coffee in the circle. Followed by a down-down, of beer of course, for that!

The weather window started to close as the circle finished, and the car park was soon deserted leaving the solitary figure of T-Rex, silhouetted against the grey sky of scurrying clouds, can in hand, oblivious to the strengthening wind blowing the trees to 45 degrees, righteously enjoying the beer he omitted at the beer stop! A Hasher through-and-through!

Tom Pates

Twizzle 100 runs award

Run 1366.

Date 5th October 2008.

Hare: Goat Wrestler.

Scribe Author: Toy Boy Tom

Now, irrespective of how good a run may or may not have been, one thing is certain. If the Hare, instead of finishing his down-down in the circle, throws half his beer over his head, and if that beer lands squarely on the Scribe’s head, then the run report can only be as bad and tasteless as the beer so thrown!

The run – well it started with the bad news from the Hare that some of the trail was likely to be missing because of yesterday’s rain and, even worse, because he couldn’t be bothered to mark all the checks! How bad an admission was that! Then, no sooner had the run started, loomed over the horizon the foreboding presence of an angry farmer, who notably ran faster that the back runners of the Hash, to complain of many things, including the tasteless colour coordination of those wearing bright yellow jackets (down-down to Thruppenny Bits for that!).

After wading through said custodian of the countryside’s damp and boggy field, there was much to-ing and fro-ing in Kirkhill Forest along trails in search of elusive third spots of flour. The bad news was that the front runners only caught up with the Hare and back runners near the end of the trail. But at least their late arrival prevented another wrong. The Hare otherwise was going to short-cut his own trail! Then tasteless news at the beer stop. Seeing wreaths nearby, Megane suggested that maybe these were for Numskull, the ex-RA – until his ghost arrived in the form of the new GM!

Feeling honour-bound to provide some not-so-bad news of the run, the Scribe must, grudgingly, report that it was a good run that included forest tails, the old Inverurie canal, views of Bennachie (skilfully, not of Dyce) and beer in the circle drank from thoroughly washed beer cans (down-down to Megane for that!). Down-downs also to Nipples for taking on the Hash Beer and for not recognising the tankards (well, they were so clean!).

More down-downs as result of Frank’s dog!

And then Goat Wrestler threw his beer onto the Scribe’s head. Beer abuse – he missed the Scribe’s mouth!

Tom

RUN MCCCLXV

Hares: Harley &Farmer

A to B & AGM

28 September 2008

The day was bright and clear, the bus filled up with gaily caparisoned hashers. After a brief lost trail hiatus in the hinterland en route to Sans O’s, there was another delay in Stoney, to await Numskull, the perennially tardy RA. However, there was a market in Market Square, and several bulging bags of confectionery were purchased.

The journey resumed to the sounds of fudge being guzzled and sugared e-numbers being sucked.

On and on we travelled, deep into Mearns Hash country, and beyond. Were we bound for utterly hash free Dundee? But no, we veered off at St Cyrus and parked in the environs of far fabled Steptoe’s Barn Sale, one of the most sparkling gems in the Scottish retail firmament. Trestle tables piled high with hideous tea sets and grotesque glassware glittered in the morning sunshine as far as the eye could see, huge decaying sheds nearby packed with rotting furniture and everywhere piles of broken machinery and bent bikes rusting quietly. Humbled in the presence of such abundance the Hash ambled into a circle.

The usual stuff was said and done, and I was given the horn to toot and the scribe to write

The pack shuffled into motion and set off on a pointless loop, crossing then re-crossing a long footbridge to the beach (such pointless loops being traditional at the start of Harley and Farmer runs) northward along the coast we went, through the dunes and up and down the sand cliffs, skipping along sandy paths lined with stabbing marram grass. Then up on to the bluffs and a cliff top path, at times precipitous, with stunning views of sweeping bay and sparkling sea. A View check at a ruined castle perched on a ledge, once the lair of a cannibal laird. (The nearby Sheriff’s Kettle once contained ingredients as yet undreamed of, I hope, in Thain’s pies)

The trail visited quaint old fishing communities, and passed by an even quainter caravan site. Cliffs of puddingstone and bright red sandstone we scuttled past, nettles we winced through, till at last we came to a divide in our path, marked W and M (Wimps and Masochists) Down a steep bank to a rocky stream, the freezing water anaesthetised nettle stings and gorse scratches, slippery boulders and deep pools, a bridge arched high above, across which the Wimps pedestrianised. The pools became deeper and the boulders bigger, climbing was required, and a rope was already in place. A rope which Farmer had been fondling, smirking, in the circle. Up we scrambled, with varying degrees of eagerness, grace and elegance.(A protesting Trouser Shredder required gentlemanly encouragement from Nipples.) Once out of the gully it was a short sprint to Benholm Mill and the beer

After a pleasant reviving pause boozing in the sun, we were bussed back to Sans‘O’s for excellent soup and carbonised burgers, etc. Presently followed a One Liner conducted circle and a Committee change.

• RA Numskull was booted upstairs to become GM,

• Hash Cash Harley resigned from politics (to ‘spend more time with his family’ and ill-gotten gains),

• Thruppenny Bits to be new cash gatherer, as

• Head Hare Megane to magnificently carry on,

• Nipples to be Hash Beer,

And so it went on, and on. I forget all the details, but there was one interesting innovation.

Duly appointed Scribes, who had failed to scribe, were obliged to kneel and drink deeply from the Dogbowl of Shame.

As almost all of them were engineers there was no surprise at their lack of literary competence - a vague knowledge of the rudiments of basic arithmetic is considered, by some, to be occasionally useful for an engineer, all agree however that literacy is entirely irrelevant

And so the afternoon wore on till the bus trundled us homeward, led down hill by a furiously pedalling Hippo.

Wotzoff

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 B’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 Hollyburn 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, Thruppenny did seem heartened to discover that the summit was marked by a welcoming park bench, rather than the anticipated trig point. Oneliner 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

Run 1363

Cults Station

Hares More Butt & Pink Panther

15th Sept 08

Not a bad little run -

In the dark and rain.

Flour not much in evidence some times and at the wrong places on others.

Hare on the bike, More Butt, didn't seem to know much about where the flour was, where it should be, or where the back checks were, or even what a back keck is or looks like.

Probably never seen one on a real run.

Pink Panther wandered around with a bag of flour in her usual laid back way and didn’t seem at all bothered what More Butt was up to, whether hashers were on flour - or anything really.

I got a little lost with Stainless and a woman swearing in Dutch, but led them ably down through the grounds of the Marcliffe.

D-Ds to newish runner Gollywog, returners Twizzle and Co, visitor from Oz, sailors for going to Croatia.

Numbskull

Run 1362

Brimmond Hill

Hare Bin Liner

8th Sept 08

Run went up the hill to the top - or so thousands of front runners thought. The rest of us followed flour downhill and across the road into Tyrebagger sculpture lands. Lots of lengthy back checks - most of which I managed to avoid. Got to the beer check in time to get one. Dark when we arrived back at the cars, but no-one lost this week.

D-D to

• JC 700 runs award

• Hippo for doing the End-End thing and for wimping out of hashing the first day back,

• Mad Cyclist for car alarm that went off when van (almost) not touched, plus others can't remember

Numbskull

One Foot 150 runs award,

YapYap 50 runs award

RUN MCCCLIX

MONGOUR in the GLAUR

18th August 2008

Hares: PIGIRON & STAINLESS

To be semantically accurate, on the evening in question, the idyllic hill of Mongour might be termed muckit as aptly glaury. (As all who Hash hereabouts must assuredly know, intuitively if not intellectually, there are delightful variants in the composition, viscosity, plasticity, colour and aroma of the indigenous muds.) In broad terms, glaury muds being slippery and slimy, while muckit muds are thick and clarty. Both were abundantly present.

All hashers present in the circle, notwithstanding the plethora of wimpish brollies, were soon drookit in the dreichness of it all. Returning to semantics, for certain we were drookit, but dreich, contrary to common belief, does not necessarily denote dampness, the original meaning is of something that is long drawn out, protracted and wearisome. This the run was not, at least it was short, and at least it was short for all except the RA, his long gabardine raincoat, and his brolly

The run began in vertical rain, the angle of fall then began to shift toward the horizontal as the run shifted, a bit, toward the vertical. The beer check, as tradition dictates, was near the (invisible) mast. I had lots of Cadburys flake. I enjoyed the run. In the circle, the rain was vertical again. Cannae B’arsed was stand in RA. There was no BBQ, and we all drove hurriedly away before the RA and his brolly returned

Wotzoff

Epilogue [Edit Hare]

Well now, if I could continue with the same dialect I would, but as I be frum Debon, you will hefto put up wiv that. Oow aar. I were born in a barn, so would've had a bitta straw in me gob, most likely.

So, truth is, everyone buggered off cos it were a bit wet. Wimps. Only three of us were worried about our RA - not really sure why, now I stop to think about it. Does he only have three friends? While you lot went off home to enjoy a nice hot bath, or went on to the pub to warm up with a pint, we waited and waited... Whinger had his phone no., but no answer from Numbskull's mobile... how long should we give him before we called for help…would search and rescue even be interested in looking for an old guy who went off for a walk with his brolly in the woods, on a wet night. Probably not. It’s All Because drove his 4x4 up and down the road to the mast vainly hoping to attract Numbskull's attention.

Just before nine our hero strolled in along the out trail - muttering some indecent remarks. Don't think we have ever been so pleased to see Numbskull before, or maybe ever again! “Phew, let’s get to the pub then!” That seemed a darned good idea, until Numbskull discovered the keys to his car were missing... here we go again, all of us grovelling around on the ground, in the dark, in the hash beer garbage, in the pouring rain, looking for some keys that turned out to be miles away, in a pocket in Aberdeen. Isn't that right Little Shit? What an uncommonly good choice of hash handle.

So Little Shit phones Sergio who is in the pub, and relays this information, which is then passed on via several mobile calls between Thruppenny Bits (who is now in the pub!) and It’s All Because to Numbskull. “Just stay at your car and I'll drive back out with the keys”.

We can only assume that they all lived happily ever after.

Run 1357

Date 4 Aug 2008

Place Brathens

Hare Whinger

Scribe 1 foot

Twas a fine night, there was no deluge.

All I remember about the pre run formalities was mention of an old cunt. Thought it might be something lost in translation but on reflection, I think not.

Welcome to Skinhead and Maidenhead.

Now I like these woods, I set a really good run here a year or two back, or it would have been if any of you had run it properly. Was looking forward to gentle trails through the trees but no, it wasn’t to be.

No sooner had we set forth than we were in reverse thrust, well most of us. You’ll always get the twats who feel a back check is a mere diversion on the way to the beer stop.

I can tell you quite a lot about the run Pussy Boots and I did, but nothing about the real one. We heard tell that Dutch Cap gave the pseudo athletes a fright up at the front.

No, Pussy Boots was held up by waves of nausea and I was held up by a perambulator which in turn was being held up by several pairs of hands over some small hurdles. Was not at all handicapped by my lardass and degenerated knee. We wavered atop about a hundred fences like flowers in the breeze, we made landfall and only left small craters in the earth. Now and again we broke into a run so fast it was all a blur and we missed checks. Luckily a herd of rhinos had been through this way before.

An hour and a half for 4 miles, surely a pb.

Back at base we were rushed like hell through the circle on account of the food deadline. A midge must have collided with the hash limo because the damn alarm was set off. Numbskull made a most brilliant observation and it’s going to haunt us. The devious, deceiving, creepy pair blind (pretend) cat Gideon and lame (not so pretend) fox Foul fellow were identified and punished for their perversions and deviations.

Dragged off at speed towards our hostelry. The waitress tried a new trick; sorry she said, there aren’t enough seats, some of you will have to stand. So? We thought. Seeing that didn’t have the desired effect, a deserted wing was hastily made available. We had fine repast, can thoroughly recommend the kiddies macaroni. Although, there was a spot of confusion. Whinger was whingeing about his lack of fajitas and hugely concerned someone at the next Hash table had hijacked them, guising as Forbes. In fact, Whingers order had failed to reach the kitchen and the poor bugger Forbes never saw his supper.

Was a good run.

1foot

x

Hare - Megane (some minor assistance and advice on short cutting from Nipples)

OnOn - Banchory

OnInn - Scott Skinners

We set off from home at the north side of Aberdeen hoping to catch up with Drillbit and see how the water works was coming on. Poor bugger can't have a beer, but is allowed to watch TV, other than that he is fine and sends his thanks and best wishes to AH3.

Arrived at the carpark at King George V Park, which appeared to provide ample space for what seemed a good turnout. Perhaps it was the weather, barmy with no hint of midge.

Here we were in Banchory, it just goes to show how careful you need to be with your Gaelic translations. Some authorities translate “Banchory” as smooth hollow; others as white cauldron. The first of these alternatives takes as its justification Banchory's location on the south facing slopes above the north bank of the River Dee, 15 miles west of Aberdeen. The second suggests the name comes from the rapids in the river hereabout. Take your pick!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The circle was called and first down down - a cold can of “wife beater” was offer to the circle and duly accepted by Sergio (cos' he's a greedy bastard, “oh!” and he’s GM.....)

Hippo, one of the brave cyclists, doesn't need more fund raising so put your wallets away - Hold it! Numbskull does, there is always a downside to fund raising.

Megane set the pack off in the generally east direction, which appeared to pass through the centre of a live archery contest. Having no wagons in tow it was hard to form a defensive circle, so we just had to dodge the arrows and trust to bad marksmanship. I know the Romans had been here a few years ago, but not a bunch of Apaches.

The original settlement of Banchory lay towards the east end of today's Banchory, where St Ternan had established a church by as early as AD 500. A series of churches followed on the same site, though when the last was demolished its replacement was built further to the west where the more modern settlement grew around the north end of the bridge built over the River Dee in 1798. Today the old churchyard remains, complete with a two storey circular watch house designed to deter body-snatchers. Good job White Trash didn't loiter too long in this area!

On we plodded up hill, tarmac to the left, tarmac to the right, tarmac to the fore. All-Be-Cos, puffing and bleating, Plonker's poor dog with blisters on its pads, pissing up lamp posts - A sad start to Hash.......... This is probably because Banchory grew significantly through the 1800s. The railway reached the village in 1853, en route to its eventual destination in Ballater. With it came an influx of hotels and other businesses. The railway departed again in 1966, but plans are afoot to re-establish it as a tourist venture. And we got TARMAC

A hash around Banchory reveals a very well served community. There is a supermarket here for the staples of life, but the main street reveals a fascinating mixture of shops that are not at all the usual chain-store clones, something that Pussy boots would appreciate, and which apparently thrive in this Deeside atmosphere. A short Hash south from Banchory takes you past the camping and caravan park to the bridge over the River Dee, unfortunately the trail didn't go this far, but try telling Harley and Numbskull that!

Here you can begin to appreciate the attraction so many feel for the River Dee, and not just those with a fishing rod in hand, or any kind of rod!. Where the Dee meets the River Feugh you can, if you time it right, watch salmon leaping as they make their one-way journeys back to the waters of their birth. South of the River Dee the countryside becomes surprisingly remote and here you can find evidence of the area's ancient residents in the form of three stone circles, most notably the Nine Stanes Stone Circle, now surrounded by forest. We didn't do any of this either, but I'm sure Harley and Numbskull did!

I labour on the tarmac too much, some woodland appeared and we ran round the edge of it, with a brief excursion into the trees and then back out into suburbia again. Then back into woods again to skirt through the remains of Banchory Glen 'O' Dee Hospital. The original building was built in 1900 and became a sanatorium for patients with tuberculosis. This building closed in 1998 and a new purpose built building was erected on the same site.

On to the beer check with Skinny Witch, Tongue Lasher and Pink Panther in deep conversation.... sun tans I expect. At the beer check we found the usual suspects and...... You guessed it!! No Harley and Numbskull. Didn't miss much other than some froggy fizzy lager stuff.........

On down to the abandoned railway for a sauntered back to the cars. The in trail passed the small town museum which recognises that this is the birthplace of James Scott Skinner, landlord of the On Inn, I think!. From here you can also see local landmarks, such as Scolty Hill; a hill topped by a tower monument, a memorial to General Burnett who fought alongside Wellington.

Back to the cars, the On Inn food was off at 9am so no real DD's of note. Suggest we bring sarnies in future and get social!

OnOn, your scribe an' 'umble servant - Little Shit

Run: 1351

Location: Torphins

Hares: Megane &Nipples

Scribe: Cannae B’arsed

Welcome to Megane’s 50th Birthday run in the salubrious setting of Torphins on this balmy summers eve where AH3 gathered in their usual shambolic fashion to await the GMs pleasure. Lots of grumblings were heard from the sillier hashers who refrained from reading the instructions (that’ll be the male members) and just drove up and down Torphins high street looking for an AH3 sign. And then it’s over to the RA, or it would have been if Olymprick hadn’t arrived just as our RA was about to spout drivel and offloaded a plethora of tasty pies.

Eventually, with the hash fed it was time for the RA to prattle on, and what fabulous prattling it was. He welcomed our visitor;

Mojo? All the way from darkest Lancashire? And then promptly told him to sod off. Then with imbecilic abandon he announced a

500th run award for Tongue Lasher and Sharnie, which confused the hell out of both of them as they thought they’d only managed 250. Oh but wait, it was a brace of 250th run awards that the RA thought he would be witty about.

Then it was over to the Hares to give us all detailed instructions on where, when, why, what and how the run was laid. 3 spots and you’re on, on-on’s that way and enjoy. And guess what? We did, once we found the flour we were off on a mission to find more. But sadly we failed until the kind hare said go that way. Hurrah we cried and off we stormed till we lost it again and again and again. There was a distinct theme to this run that I’m sure made sense to some but as a permanently lost scribe somewhere near the front/back/middle I was buggered if I knew what it was. Thankfully at some point on the trail we came across the geriatric Deeside ramblers association out for a Monday shamble, which they alleged covered far more distance than exists around Torphins and gave them the perfect excuse to turn back the 300 yards to the beer check. Which they even short cut too. Bloody disgrace these shamblers, should castigate the lot of them.

After a pleasant trail round some very scenic spots in the Torphins area we convened back at the cars for the usual pre down-down drinks and pies. There was a slight hold up on the pie front thanks to Olymprick departing on his own run with our visitor to the pub via the vets for a bandage!

Down-downs in no real order were.

• Piss Poor for chicken fillets?

• Thrupenny Bits and Pink Panther for the real thing.

The Hares for an excellent run.

End of run and time to head to Megane for the 50th birthday feast on-inn.

Run Number: 1350

Monday 16th June 2008

Hare: Thruppenny Bits

Witches Tit - what an appropriate name for this week’s run site. As the hash gathered so did the clouds casting a shadow over the group. However, two hashers shone like rays of Crete sunshine. Broad smiles lit up their brown faces. Trouser Shredder and Canna be Arsed announced that they had just returned from their honeymoon in Crete. Apparently the happy couple ran off to the Stonehaven registrar office and got hitched. Was daddy informed? Anyway, many congratulations to the newlyweds. Some would say not before time. The pre-run ON DOWN was a no brainer as the happy couple were awarded the hash equivalent of champagne - ASDA’s best bitter!

Now, at last, to the run. The Hare, Thruppenny Bits announced to the relief of the circle that the run was not her usual marathon setting. What an accomplished liar. Never again to be trusted. The run started with a false trail which got rid of Farmer and Numbskull. No surprised there. Once on the right track, hashers bashed and battered their way through secondary jungle only being kept together by clever false tracks and difficult checks. On and on went the run. Would it never end?

The trail suddenly came out on a tarred road, metres from home. A long and uphill track led the moaning and groaning pack to the beer check. Even the first runners had stopped running. Nearly two hours of torture got most of the hashers’ home with the stragglers limping in some time later. A real macho hash run!

ON DOWNS

It took some time for the circle to be ordered into place as recovery was slow and San O fired up the BBQ. On Downs were awarded to

Numbskull for being off-track. Why, I don’t know, as this is his usual behaviour.

Megane for not contacting SAGA about her holiday booking to Newcastle. Get a life!

Dutch Cap and Harley for the Dutch football team. Strange, as both gave up their Dutch citizenship years ago in favour of God’s own country, Scotland.

Returners, Twice in One Night, for returning!

A young girl who drove an old car for getting lost. The Grandmaster should tell her that the award is the beer, not the coveted hash mug.

The hare for the run of the week, longest run of the year and best lay of the year. That sounds about right! Well done to Thruppenny Bits - a hard act to follow.

Next run is at Torphins. See you there.

ON! ON!

Scribe: White Trash

Run Number: 1349

Monday 9th June 2008

Hares: Toy Boy Tom

Picked up Twizzle who was giving us a flying visit from his home in Lincoln where his bidie-in lives and Hanover where he spends most of his time. A travelling man who is just about to get re-wed. Once bitten twice shy, not much sense this man - so look out for his stag on 16th August........

We left slightly early because I thought the traffic at the Brig 'o' Dee may be a congested, flew straight through with no hold-ups arriving at the Tollohill Wood carpark dead early. Not early enough, the carpark was filled with Banks 'o' Dee school kids and parents out for a walk in the woods. Total cock up by the hare! Or was it?

Slowly the parents and kids disappeared and holes in the carpark appeared, just in time for most of the mismanagement to snap them up. For those wanting to get on the mismanagement next year, it is a perk of the position that ordinary members of the pack give up their parking spaces for the mismanagement team!

For some reason I was asked to don a bright orange bib and hold a silver horn with a black rubber ball at one end. At which point Numbskull awarded the pre run down down to Twizzle for getting wed!

OnOn was called and we waddled around in circles, which felt like a spiral, on flour but not crossing trail. As requested I dutifully kept pressing my rubber ball until it squeaked. Then all of a sudden we were out of the woods on to a road! Hippo and Watsoff were disappearing in opposite directs, both wrong as it happened. Thrupenny had picked up the trail, no problem and off we headed for the monument on the hill for views of Deeside and Cults. At this point the in trail was a tad close to the out trail, but with a bit of diplomatic calling Nipples got the pack heading off on the out trail again. On through Banchory Devenick and what appeared to be an old landscaped garden, with streams and ponds. Mrs T, Pink Panther and Struth where in deep discussion about womanly type issues, PMT, HRT that sort of thing!

The trail followed the burn and went under the South Deeside road and flowed into the river Dee. On we ran to Brown's bridge, allegedly built by Father Brown, not Father Abraham, to allow his parishioners to cross from Mannofield to Banchory Devenick church. This could all be a load of bollox, but it passes the time of day!

Here we found the sweetie check, occupied by the front running sweeties and of course Cinders! After a brief history lesson and a mini Mars, off we went in search of beer. As I mentioned earlier, the in trail was already found and the beer check was occupied by the walking wounded and in one case what looked like a corpse! Nuff said, Drillbit, Numbskull and Pigiron had snaffled the good beer, leaving only fizzy girly lager sh*t and something made of apples.

Back at the carpark, The Count Sans 'O' got out his erection and set fire to it - not a pleasant sight!

Down downs:

Numbskull apologised for being a useless RA, but gave tips for potential future RAs on how to be a dickhead and not get away with it....

• Tip number 1 - choose a colour, “erm” Pink - Down down to One Foot and Struth.... wait for it.....you guessed it, “and Pink Panther”.

• Tip number 2 - try and rope in someone else, Little Shit to the rescue, The Penguin for having pleated troosers.

• Tip number 3 - never trust the GM to assist, they generally talk more crap than the RA.

• Tip number 4 - don’t forget the Hare - Toy Boy Tom, a good relaxing run and a good social circle afterwards

• Tip number 5 - Give up and go home.

Then dinner was served - quarter pounders, which as usual Harley was already eating after ignoring the instruction to form a circle.......

OnOn

Little Shit

Run Number: 1348

Monday 2nd June 2008

Hares: Bruce Almighty & White Trash (The Two Bookends)

On On: Durris Mast

The hares obviously chose the car park with care, with several hashers trying to crack the sumps of their vehicles, the best being the RA Numbskull, who must have been thirsty as he awarded himself the pre-run down-down. Unfortunately for the crowd, The Lum stopped short of the ditch.

The hares explained if you were on, you were on, and then pointed us in the right direction, and we were off. At the first check Bruce Almighty was too quick to shout On-On as only a few front runner started up the hill, and, like the Grand Old Duke of York, we all followed only to come back down again.

The only thing to say about the rest of the run was there was a lot of forest, bracken, whips and a bit of swamp, making it a one and a half hour uphill walk to the beer check. There was supposed to be chicken wings at the beer check, but none was to be seen, only the empty bag!

White Trash was totally confused when he arrived with the 4x4, Bruce Almighty and The Orienteer! After 5 minutes The Penguin emerged from the forest with chicken wings under his t-shirt. We reckoned his physique did not change once he took them out.

After all the uphill struggling, it was now downhill to the cars.

The BBQ had been lit and down-down’s had to last until the food was ready.

The Down-Downs went to:

• Little Shit: Something about not able to walk, did not hear what.

• Gavin and Gordon: New runners, do not know if they will be back, last seen racing along the South Deeside road.

• Sans O: For losing £10 part of the £30 for his Boy’z Zone ticket!!

• Stainless: For running to the top of Durris to see something erect!!!! According to Pig Iron, it was such a long time since she had seen something erect.

• The Penguin: The Chicken Wing Thief.

• The Orienteer: Brazenly getting a lift to the Beer Stop.

• Megane: For taking part in an Orienteering race.

Then the food was ready, although Sans O had got in there first.

On-On

Tiger Feet.

Run: 1344

Date: 5-5-2008

Venue: Foggieton Carpark

Hare: Binliner

Scribe: Dutch Cap

It was a sunny evening and there were about 40 runners.

When the circle was called, the RA was fed up looking at photos of “Nipples” so he was given a down-down. Binliner explained some of the details reference the beer-stop and then off we were down the direction as indicated by the hare where the trail started.

Very quickly the first check point was reached and front runner: Hippo went one direction followed by Little Shit and Dutch Cap and some others followed a different route. While the first 3 were looking for the trail, a call came through that the others found the trail. This call was ignored by the 3 because it came far too quick.

The trail was found and followed while shouting on-on and squeaking the horn. At the next check-point the other runners caught up and the trail was followed eventually when found. The trail moved through the country side and there was a lot of variety during the route.

There was plenty flour and it was thought that the hare may have used at least 5 bags. (Asda price 45p per bag). The runners finally stumbled over the beer check. When looking around, there was another B marked and between the marks the beer and soft drinks was located. After refreshing drinks, the runners followed the trail back to the car park.

Time: about 0ne hour.

The circle could not be formed because the RA Numbskull had not arrived yet. He eventually arrived at his own speed. All thought that Binliner set an excellent run. And after some down-downs, half the runners followed Binliner to his place for further discussions, beer and food.

Loch Morlich

Sun 4TH May 2008

Hares: Adrian & Farmer

After a slight detour consisting of multiple factors: (a) Tom Tom malfunction due to poor satellite coverage in the Cairngorms, please note not my inability to use the said Tom Tom, (b) red herring car was mistakenly followed thinking it was the Pink Panther, realised mistake as it took off in wrong direction heading for the hills instead of the loch. My late arrival at the loch was rewarded by the task of scribe.

Pre-run down down went to the games master It’s All Because of his brainteaser the previous evening too complicated yet simple (X marks the spot).

Great weather on the Sunday morning brought out all the enthusiastic runners. They sped off down the track at a fast pace, crossing the road and into the countryside.

I declined the run and decided to walk around loch Morlich with Nancy and No Knickers and am oblivious as to how and where the run went but I believe it was very scenic and enjoyed by all. Hope they were telling the truth;!

The hash finished the run and heartily congratulated the hares for setting a splendid run.

After the run we all went to the Boat House restaurant for lunch, enjoyed the picturesque view over loch Insh and the entertainment provided by the windsurfers as they made quite a splash.

Down Downs

First down down went to No Knickers for organising an excellent weekend.

Thanks were given for all the culinary delights that were prepared for the weekend.

Best entertainment of the evening went to Harley and Nancy for their love songs.

Most embarrassing moment of the evening went to More Butt for her use of the teapot and her belly mole exposure along with Sans O during I Spartacus.

The hares for an exceptional run, the best Loch Morlich run of the year.

Charge from the circle went to The Love Heart, Adrian for love messages on the run ie romantic hearts on the ground with the initials AA and RAC (whoops my mistake).

The Orienteer

A to B

Run 1342 (Sunday 20th April 2008)

This was the last Sunday run of the winter season 2007-2008.

As customary Farmer and Harley benevolently organised a so called ‘A’ to ‘B’ run with a bus that took us to a clandestine location.

The turned out to be Gartly Moor forest - starting at the ski and cycle trail car park.

Drillbit got awarded a 450 cap.

Bruce Almighty got 150 sweat shirt - but he ruined the ceremony by arguing that his 150 was the previous week. Just like Sergio always does.

And then they were off.

The walkie talkies were provided with a simple but interesting alternative. The run meandered thru’ Gartley Moor forest, around Wishach Hill. There were several devious back checks that kept, Hippo, Little Shit and Wotzoff at bay. There was a fine viewpoint from the radio tower on top of the Hill of Corskie at 417 metres above sea level. There was a sweetie stop that several hashers missed but all were gathered at the beer stop at Malsach Burn.

At the finish it was astonishing how few hashers failed to realize that the end of the run ‘B’ was actually the same point as ‘A’ - the starting point. It was suggested that the AGM run should be a B to B run! Many remarked that this would be a good location for future runs - although a little far out.

Down downs were given to Sharnie (alias Victim) for suggesting helicopters could be used rather than buses.

• Harley got one for wearing too much hash gear - including 666 hat, 777 shorts, 550 sweatshirt and 450 bum bag.

• The Penguin and others got one for having gamy knees.

• Cinders got a very special down down for calling Aids Simon during sex!

• One Foot got several down downs for an assortment of misdemeanours and got extraordinarily drunk.

• Trouser Shredder showed cruel child abuse by throwing all her beer over Christopher (CC).

The On Inn was at the Carriages Inn in Inch where we were joined by Olymprick who arrived by train. The pub advertised real ale - but there wasn’t any for Hippo - who was determined to get tanked up before cycling back home.

The next run will be number 1343 on Monday 28th April 2008 at 7pm. The Hare is Megane OnOn: Grid ref no 719 912 - (which is meaningless without the map No. NJ), Nine Stones (it is Stanes not stone) car park near Knockburn Loch. Take unclassified road from Blairdryne (spelt wrong) to Strachan. Car park is on the right approx 3 km west of Blairydrine. OnInn: Scott Skinners, Banchory. Extra Info: First Monday run...and there will be hash signs!!!!!!

Aberdeen H3 Run No 1341

Date: 13th April 2008

OnOn: Persley Walled Garden, Bucksburn

Hare: Goat Wrestler

The pack gathered in the car park next to Persley Walled Garden in the weak sunshine - the first sun seen in the North East of Scotland for two weeks. Solicitous enquiries from GM Sergio were quickly followed by the news from the circle that I was the chosen one for this week’s scribe.

The pre-run Down-Down went to

Goat Wrestler along with a tasteful and practical blue sweatshirt for reaching 150 runs, before the pack set off in the usual direction over the bridge towards Tesco.

A loop around Bannatynes sports club led the pack back under the bridge and west along the river bank where the front runners caught sight of the SCB’s ahead. The SCB’s followed trail from the check along the river but Cinders and FiFi thought better and parallel tracked along the road until they came across the next check and saw some walkie-talkies uphill ahead of them. So far so familiar.

On up the hill through the scrubby woodland in the company of Toy Boy Tom and out round the fields until a sweetie check was happened upon. The flour spots were sparingly laid which may account for the fact that a number of FRB’s (Numbskull (!), Little Shit, Hippo, Plonker) short cut past the chocolate repast. All the more for the rest.

Trail led on across some perfectly manicured pasture (much admired by Aids, whose own lawn, apparently, hardly bears comparison), and back across the Parkway into suburbia. A fairly straightforward, but cunningly disguised by lack of flour, route led back down the hill to the playing fields by the river where a number of civilian footie matches were in progress.

It must go over the Grandholm Bridge, I thought, but, “No”, said Cinders, “I’ve checked and there’s no flour over there.” At this, Plonker approached to report sighting of a Hare on the far side of the river and miraculously, flour had now appeared over the bridge after all. Another two hundred yards and a welcome B was spotted. It wasn’t long before the rest of the pack turned up along with JC, Jiffy and Heebie Jeebie making a three-wheeled sprint for the finish.

Down Downs were awarded to:

• Megane: For hoarding all the Hash Signs in her garage

• Hippo: For undue fastidiousness about the cleanliness of his beer can

• Little Shit: For stockpiling two cans of beer in his car before the run started to ensure he didn’t have to wait for Hash Beer’s return at the end

• Sergio: For total incompetence at operating Hash Beer’s electronic car key

• Goat Wrestler: For haring

• Bruce Almighty: For being constantly misunderstood in Oz as Piss Almighty

OnOn

FiFi

AH3 RUN 1340; April 6th 2008.

Top of School road, Peterculter

Hares: Plonker &Trouser Shredder

After a heavy snow fall during the night, bitterly cold temperatures and strong winds I was not expecting a good turnout for this run. My fears were unfounded. It takes a lot more than that to dampen the enthusiasm of the AH3 hash and the turnout was excellent.

Because of the cold wind the assembly was hastily called to circle in order to get the formalities out of the way as quickly as possible and start the run. The GM picked on the first person he saw to be scribe, me, but then was unable to provide the Hash Horn. What a disappointment-making a lot of noise on the horn is the only fun part of being scribe. After shamefully trying to blame Harley for losing his horn the GM eventually had to accept responsibility and was quite rightly given a down down by the RA. You had better find it for next week Sergio! Then it was over to the hares and On-On.

Well, after the heavy snow fall during the night it quickly became apparent that the hares had been up early and there were reasonably adequate amounts of fresh blue flour. The run set off north and through the woods. With yours truly and my faithful dog Angus in the lead we continued; crossing the main Culter/Skene road, through a caravan park and down a slippery bank to the Culter Burn. Some found that the only way down the slippery bank was by sliding on their arse and had to complete the run with a wet bum. Hope you soon dried out. The run continued along the burn, across the main A93 and through Newmill Hill Woods with quality checks and flour trail all the way. And then confusion!

It may have been the fault of Little Shit, pontificating about the history of the Roman encampments in that area and “What the Romans Had Done for Us”. We were all in such a hurry to get away that we headed at great speed along the most obvious escape route which just happened to be the Old Deeside railway line. After half a mile with not a spot of flour we were having our doubts! Fortunately, by the time we got to Drillbit’s estate we found a blob or two of flour and soon after that the Hares came to our rescue with a call of “on-right”. So the dumb ass pack promptly headed 90degrees right and down towards the river behind the Kirk. WRONG!! A bearing of 10degrees right was all that was required to return us to the Old Deeside railway.

Everybody, including the walky talkies, eventually met up at the beer stop. Overall it was an excellent run under difficult circumstances.

Post run down downs were awarded to;

• Dutch Cap - for falling on his arse at Culter Burn.

• Farmer - for leading the RA astray. The SCBs sneaking through private property!

• Susie and Becky - Birthday girls.

• Hares-Plonker &Trouser Shredder- for an excellent run.

On On

Bin Liner

AH3 RUN 1339

Dead End Carpark, Bridge of Don

Hare: Mad Cyclist

This first Sunday morning after the clocks had changed turned out to be a lovely day weather wise, not too cold and I cycled the 2 mile or so to be greeted by Wotzoff searching for a semblance of an AH3 sign to signify the run start, well there was none, who is the guilty party hording the AH3 signs?

Well a good turnout for this anticipated town run and car-parking did not prove too difficult, as Sergio is still away Interhashing, I called the pack to order and introduced wee Numbskull into the circle and promptly forgot to appoint a scribe, hence this dribble from your truly.

Set-off down a little pedestrian access path to a check and promptly ran a loop which I suspected we ran the wrong way round and that set the scene for this run. I set-off from this same check after Little Shit only to be greeted by a bar, too early in this run I thought blasting through and low and behold I came across the On Inn sign, job solved I thought.

Well not quite, veered off into the direction I thought this run was coming from and yes you guessed it, this run went nowhere near the river Don, well I should have known, the hare did say something about horses and I pointed Thruppenny Bits in the general direction but failed to follow up myself. Eventually after running through a garden centre supposedly guarded by fierce dogs, ended up in the Denmore estate to find flour and a B sign, job done, first at the beer stop.

Some more SCB turned up, the usual characters, Olymprick and Numbskull, walkers started to appear and soon the whole pack arrived and enjoyed the libation in the Denmore Estate.

Overall a worthwhile run, not too much of the town running involved, by hearsay off course, I blame this on Farmer not being there to keep me on trail, yeah right!!

Post run down downs were awarded to:

Aids for putting his clock forward on Friday and having to endure Cinders’ displeasure on the Saturday and this might be the reason she did not turn up on the Sunday

Bus party, FiFi and Piss Poor taking Frank’s bus back to the On On

For being 1 hourly early, Olymprick for closing his bakery ahead of schedule and

Drillbit for something to do with washing

The Hare for a different run where each spot turned out to be a check in its own right, well the run did not go where I wanted it to go now!

On On

Harley

AH3 run no. 1338, March 23, Easter Sunday.

Location: Sunnyside something-or-other, Drumoak

Hare: Numskull

I COULD WRITE A SONNET, but I won’t.

This was AH3’s Easter run, so you would expect a colourful turnout of harriers and harriettes in bright outfits to celebrate the end of lent and the rite of spring.

The hash sheet gave this weeks’ on in as Sunnyside something in Drumoak. An urban location, should be easy to find. However, being grateful to their benefactor, George, Lord Sunnyside, for the gift of a magnificent sewage works [the pride of Deeside] on the site of the old stagecoach repair factory, the good folk of Drumoak had decided to name every bloody street after him. Through the blizzard I managed to see Numbskull’s home-made AH3 sign before driving out of Drumoak altogether, but then spent 15 minutes I’ll never see again driving along Sunnyside Road, past Sunnyside Crescent, down Sunnyside Way, into and out of Sunnyside Drive, around Sunnyside Circle, through Sunnyside Gardens, back into Sunnyside Street and Sunnyside Wind, up and down Sunnyside Close and Sunnyside Rise, not to mention Sunnyside Avenue, before finally turning into Sunnyside Lane. Here, fortunately, because the AH3 committee had taken all the AH3 signs off to Interhash in Perth, was hash beer wench Threepennies dressed up as Mr. Egg in a rather fetching yellow kagool, directing traffic into Sunnyside fields. Apparently, Numskull’s role as Chairman of the Sunnyside Veteran’s association meant he could drive his cars across the community field, presumably a great honour in this riverside hamlet.

Not unsurprisingly, given the competing attractions of an Easter in sunny Perth [Interesting fact no. 2, every shop, museum, sports arena, brothel, restaurant, betting shop and public building in Perth and Fremantle closes on Good Friday, the only other day, apart from Christmas Day, where this happens - how will the Interhashers manage?] and an “Esoteric Challenge” whatever that was, only a few hardy harriers made it to the on-in. Or perhaps they just got lost driving around the myriad of Sunnysides.

There were only a dozen or so harriers around by the time the ubiquitous Threepennies called for a circle. Only Tiger Feet was dressed up in rural Easter attire, and had two new-laid eggs to boot. Although he actually threw them at the RA rather than boot them. I had 5 layers on and was still cold in the bitter wind. There was a large loop around the southern edge of Sunnysides through the first check, and we saw Numbskull the hare on his bike, so we knew that most of the run would be on tarmac. And it was. The first quarter of the run was up though Drumoak village. Past the church full of happy Drumoak folk, past little lanes to interesting places, past lots of interesting little bridle paths and trails through woods, until we hit on a cart track leading to Drum castle. The sun was shining by now, and we joined the National Trust visitors in admiring Drum castle and its gardens. It was just as well we stuck to the roads through the Drum castle estate, as the woods seemed to be full of SAS look-alikes, interfering with the undergrowth.

The hash had kept together pretty well up to now, but I must have lost time searching in the wrong direction when the flour trail ran out, and now only found empty nests at the Easter egg checks. We headed down to the river and the local duck pond. The ducks must have eaten all the eggs at the egg-check here, or tried to hatch them. On the way out of the woods, some harriers broke one of the sensible rules of hashing: if you lose the trail, go back to the last place you saw it. But some harriers (no names, but we know who you are) instead followed the primrose path to Sunnyside Villas when they saw the town so near across an open field. Well more fool them. We sensible, or perhaps just more gullible, harriers, listened to the hare and picked up the real trail to the beer stop. This turned out to be Numbskull’s holiday home on the banks of the Dee. We had beer, eggs (finally), a view of Kevin’s folly, sunshine, and a good spot for a picnic. Numbskull said it was a good spot for swimming too, but he refused to demonstrate, even when pushed.

So, another good run - a lot of tarmac perhaps, but good scenery, no dodgy bridges and no irate landowners. Well done Numbskull. And well done to the harriers and harriettes who made it around the trail.

The snow started on our trek back to Sunnyside Mansions. Here we found the rest of the pack tucking into mulled wine (an excellent vintage) and champagne to celebrate Numbskull’s child bride’s birthday. Numbskull was very proud of his new extension, which he popinted out in great detail to a few harriettes. I’m not a great fan of the modern minimalistic decor, myself. In fact Mrs. Numbskull thought the same, and persuaded us to redecorate with down-down beer, champagne, mulled wine, chilli, etc. Possibly because of the mulled wine and champagne, not to mention chilli and birthday cake, the harriers spent a lot of time chatting and being nice to each other, even the hare. It might as well have been spring. At this point, feeling full of the joys of Sunnyside Mews, I also made the mistake of mentioning to the acting GM that she hadn’t appointed a scribe. Ah well, inspired by her rather feeble efforts in last weeks’ report, I dashed off a little art work of my own, reproduced below. Can you tell what it is yet? (And why is it relevant to this week’s run?)

Pip! Pip!

T-Rex Cock

Run No: 1337

Date: Sunday, 16 March 2008

Location: Inchmarlo Hall, Bridge of Canny, Banchory

Hare: Whinger

Scribe: Thrupenny Bits

A small but select band of hashers arrived at Inchmarlo Hall to find Whinger doing what he does best, whinging. It seems that although the trail has been set, we will be running through a lot of private property, and not all the landowners view our imminent arrival as kindly as they might. This is after Whinger has told them that it is now our right to enjoy the Scottish countryside if we choose to, so tough shit!

It’s always a worry when the hare has the excuses sorted out before we even start to run. We were advised about some abnormal hash “signs” to look out for. Something to do with H’s &F’s. As proud carrier of the hash horn I was warned not to “honk” at the “H” area for fear of frightening the H’s. Personally I didn’t even see any. And I certainly didn’t see any F’s!!!

But I did see several small, rickety bridges, many, many barbed wire fences, and several rivers - or was it the same one several times from different directions. One of the crossings caused some concern for the timid, frail, and elderly. Means of crossing included handholding, praying, crawling and avoiding the bridge altogether!

If only I’d had a camera you wouldn’t have had to suffer my pathetic “artwork”. Now I come to think of it I did have my mobile, but being part of the older generation it never occurred to me until now that I could have used it to take that photo. Ah well. That’s one of the many problems that comes with age the other common problem is memory lapses.

So, where was I? Oh yes, enjoying a delightful hash through delightful Deeside countryside, mostly on private property but on this occasion no one tried to shoot us! Most unusually for me I was with the pack for most of the run, so all could benefit from my splendid honking. The beer check was a welcome sight, and all but three hashers were there to enjoy it - but I believe they had been and gone.

Back at the circle stovies and butteries courtesy of Olymprick were scoffed and then downs downs were awarded to the following, and I apologise now for any errors/omissions.

• Returners - Richard & Judy as Numbskull would insist on calling them

• (Real names Shiggy Dick and Babs)

• Wimp One - White Trash for not using the bridge.

• Wimp Two - T-Rex Cock for using the bridge in doggy fashion.

• Farmer and Harley for shortcutting so badly (or well?) two weeks ago that they went off to the pub before the rest of the hash got back.

• Numskull for tie-dying his 25 year-old “tracksuit”.

• Hare - Whinger for setting a good run, despite irate landowners, H’s and F’s.

On On

Thrupenny Bits

Run: 1336

Date: Sunday 9th March 2008

Hare: One-Liner

Scribe: Toy Boy Tom

What an idyllic sight at Counteswells forest! Countless swell beauties, all in a circle: some chestnut, some hazel, some dark, some blond. The Hash was looking good to Toy Boy Tom! Oh, there were a few blokes there as well.

Quizzed, the Hare said that it was not a very muddy run - despite his shoes being covered with a brown substance that, if not mud, could have been something worse given the closeness of the horse stables! Through the sunlit forest, the trail went, the Hare occasionally found lolling against a tree, watching the pack go by, no doubt overcome with the idyllicness of the scene!

The Hash Horn decided to run (some might say loitered!) not at the front, as is tradition, but at the back of the pack - but, hey, the first rule of Hashing is that there are no rules. Where better to listen to notes floating through the air from the front of the pack from JC’s horn. Where better to hear the twitter of birds and Walky-Talkies! Spurred on, some might say, by the prospect of the beer stop, the Horn ran up to the front of the pack only to find that most Hashers had taken a short-cut and were ahead enjoying the beer. Where better to be than loitering at the back of the pack!

The beer stop - an attractive spot, in a clearing in the forest with Struth flaunting her Scotty mini-skirt in front of Farmer - on the excuse of celebrating the Scots Calcutta Cup victory at Murrayfield the day before! An attractive spot indeed, on reflection! Anyway.

The circle, though, was, however, not so attractive. For a “drinking club with a running problem” of 1336runs stature, it is with some regret that the Scribe is compelled to question whether standards are slipping.

Instead of Hashers grabbing a can from the beer box to quench their thirst, much rummaging around found beers of dubious age. Rust on the bottom of Drillbit’s can! Must be clearing out the Hash cellars. Little Shit though showed he is a Hasher through-and-through - he quickly found the only can of Tanglefoot!

And standards in the circle?:

Fi-Fi eating her sandwiches!

SansO wearing a nice, clean leather jacket of machine-washed blotched colour!

The RA asking Hashers to be decorous with their beer and not to throw it over other’s jackets (a nearby parked shiny black car is now presumably partly paint-stripped by Asda beer!).

And 2 Hashers contemptuously failed to attend the circle - Pussy-Boots and Tim - on the lame excuse of losing the trail (independently, they claim!)

All suitably and ably handled by the RA.

And all this on a run that One-Liner had laid with great cunning - through woodlands with plenty of trees, horses, dogs and bogs to avoid. Although, by the shoes of those in the circle, not many had managed to avoid anything! Good one, One-Liner!

Toy Boy Tom

SCRIBE : PUSSY BOOTS

RUN: 24 FEB 2008

Chaitay was the guest runner from Mumbai. He's not yet an official hasher in his own country but had such a great time with the Aberdeen Hash that he's seriously thinking of joining a Hash back home! In warmer but not

Sunnier climes!

The Hash got off to a rough start as the group split up with the front sprinters taking a scenic route and TROUSER SHREDDER heading cross country to Cammock Moor.

The rest ran seamlessly through the grey spider's web of new Portlethen residential town. And an hour or so later, after much weaving through the brick, football pitches and play parks, most of the Hash reunited at the coastal path.

'BINLINER' exclaimed at a check ‘I’ve had enough'' at that PUSSY BOOTS make him do 50 press ups, while some of the more ardent striders took the treacherous path down to The Beach. (Alias Newtonhill cove). Instead

CINDERS preferred to stick to the path for the sky line views. The frozen sweetie check was most welcome, once found the large bag of sweets was well hidden behind a large boulder on a windy hill. The beer stop was even better of course and in THRUPENNIE'S garden a very sun trap and also according to Megane the reason for Thrupenies all year round tanned complexion.

Lots and Lots of down downs mmm where to I start...? The ''disorder was something like this...

Happy Birthday songs and cheers all round for the RA birthday Boy's -

NUMSKULL ceidhl-cabaret held the night before with allot of activity centred round climbing in and out of a large cardboard box.

DRILLBIT completely forgot about the NUMSKULL Big 60 Birthday Bash...and got a down down for being clueless and home alone watching TV.

Special Parcel Force Delivery came in the form of TOY BOY TOM or should I say JACK IN THE BOX!

HIPPO got a sneak preview of Anne Marie’s pink bra I'm not sure why?

....again this was permitted only when standing in the brown cardboard box.

Two fair English Roses SERGIO AND FARMER had plentiful celebratory down downs for England's victory in the Rugby.

Thirsty FARMER got a second down down for being not being a modern man...for neglecting his dishwasher domestic duties.

Nothing new PUSSY BOOTS gets lost on the way to the Hash and trying to find NUMSKULL’S party...ends up crashing an engagement do only after ordering a double gin of course. At the Hash also lost the 'sacred Hash Horn' oops..But its forgivable stuff as The Hare THRUPENIES lost the map too.

Young hashers from OZ had the final down downs

And SANS O got boxed in and trashed the Special Parcel Force Delivery Box at the end.

This won't make sense unless you were there!

BBC Report

Aberdeen Hash 25th Anniversary - 23 January 2008

Its 11.00am on the 23 day of the first month of the 25th year.

And so, from my vantage point high above Tyrebagger Hill car park, I can look down as Aberdeen hashers quietly assemble for this momentous hashing occasion - yes, the 25th anniversary run of Aberdeen Hash.

As the clouds scurry overhead in the fresh January air, I hear the GM gently calling the assembled hashers together with the ceremonial call “Gather round you bastards”. Bedecked in traditional hash finery, all tastefully trimmed in silver baking foil, the hashers slowly shuffle into a perfectly formed circle.

A hush settles amongst those gathered. The GM, the most honourable Dicky Bird, solemnly opens proceedings by welcoming those assembled to this auspicious gathering. The RA, the most holy Numbskull, welcomes the numerous visiting and new, hashers. And now, the Hare, the most venereal Aids, steps forward to announce the start of the 25th anniversary run.

And so they leave through soft morning light. I see Cannae B’arsed leading the pack with a softly spoken “OnOn” call.

I see hash ancients The Penguin, Sir, and White Trash stumble forward as they wheeze along slow yard by slow yard.

I see Olymprick head off in the opposite direction.

I see Harley interneting hash subscriptions into his 2008 holiday account.

I also see the girlie walkie talkers aimlessly wander off while still maintaining unflickering eye contact as they debate yet again, who said what to who and when, what they really meant when they said it, and why they maybe said what they did, and what they really meant to say when they might have said what they did, when they said what they did to someone else, maybe.

At the woodland beer check I can just see thirst quenching beer and champagne being passed round. And now, yes, I can just hear the dulcet tones of the traditional Aberdeen hash chant “Father Abraham” drifting though the morning air, led by choir master Little Shit.

And so, having returned back to the historical car park, proceedings continue with the distribution of prized ceremonial remembrance awards - woolly hats and iced sponge cake.

The GM now steps forward again - the circle reforms - further hash awards are given:

Hippo - for failing to join his fellow hashers for a ceremonial pints before Friday’s ceremonial Chinese meal on Friday just because the Monkey House didn't serve suitable beer.

The Penguin - for the heinous crime of graffiti. The GM showed a photo taken the previous day of the Cosco roundabout with the word THE PENGUIN (and a little drawing of a feathered version) scrawled across it.

All previous AH3 GM's.

The 10 hashers with most AH3 runs over the last 25 years: in order they were:

Little Shit, Harley, The Penguin, Hippo, Aids, JC, Olymprick, Cinders (sadly absent), Farmer and FiFi.

And so, as the winter sun starts to set on the day’s proceedings, the proud Aberdeen hashers start to leave ready for yet another 25 years of hashing at the final frontier: their 25 year mission: To find strange new runs - to seek out new trails and beer checks - to boldly run where no hasher has gone before.

AHHH RUN NUMBER 1328 (roughly)

Sunday 13th January 2008

It was a positively balmy Sunday morning in Kintore, with just an occasional drop of tropical drizzles as we gathered for this ‘adult’ run next to the cemetery. In view of the temperature (7 C) most people were rather overdressed, and had to strip off a few layers as we started a long slog along the dual carriageway to Inverurie and then left up the road above Toms’ Quarry. Just when we were sick of the tarmac we veered off into the trees and mud and made our way down through some boggy bits into the quarry and found ourselves at the sweetie check on the bridge to nowhere. We all enjoyed the sweeties, except for Little Shit who found a large lump of tooth in his Rollo. T-Rex Cock complained bitterly that people were not following the flour properly (but we’re Hashers right?) - but with the Hash Horn honking in the far distance and FRBs shooting of in all directions had finally to resort to giving the back runners a few hints. This got most people out of the quarry, back across the old railway line and up across the fields to start heading back towards Kintore.

The trail then led back to the quarry, and down an interesting scree slope. At this point there appeared to be 3 trails. A ‘W’ trail heading left that no one took. The real one down into the quarry and one that half the pack had taken though there was no flour. T-Rex Cock stayed in the quarry for a long time waiting to guide the frail and elderly away from the dangers of the scree slope, but they had long since pissed off home by the other route, resulting in his non-appearance at the circle. The way home was also via one of several parallel trails laid by the thoughtful hare as a contingency. This was a good plan as everyone was convinced they had done the ‘whole hash’.

In the circle Hillary was renamed Hillary-deceased (or Dead Sir Ed) for obvious reasons, and then got down-downed again for being the Cults ‘Hoody’. Fegen down-downed himself for thinking that Goat Wrestlers daughter was under 18 (the rest of us could tell she was at least 20).

Seeing as there was no nudity, violence or sex on the run I would have rated it PG.

Thanks to T-Rex Cock for the Run and Mrs T-Rex Cock for the food.