Nothing says “Welcome back after several months away” quite like being greeted by the GM with that warm, fuzzy, kind, caring and sharing expression and the words “Can you do the write-up this week?”  After so many people had responded positively to my recent question as Hair Razor — “When can you set a run for SH3, please?” — How could I possibly refuse our beloved GM?

So, with no notebook, no preparation, and certainly no journalistic ability, here goes…

The Car Park

We had our usual game of Jenga [Tetris???] in the car park, which seemed to be going particularly well, just the question as always “how can we fit in another car?“  So a good turnout for our hares, No Nookie and Shitfer Brains.

Master of Doom, Fannysniffer predicted rain at 11.10, but we persuaded him to try another weather app, which showed much better prospects. He did — only to discover he was looking at yesterday’s forecast. The revised prediction was rain at 14.00, so all was well. We could therefore relax in the knowledge that the weather forecast was as reliable as Uncle Gerry saying, “I know exactly where I am.”

On Out

Hornblower took over the mantle of FRB this week and quickly found the ON. Atalanta and Bonn Bugle were leading the pack, checking backwards and forwards, until I got so many checks wrong that I eventually lost the will to live and hung back. I left Atalanta to it and Doug The Tub took over.

There are advantages to hanging back, of course. You get to conserve energy, avoid unnecessary hills and, most importantly, eavesdrop on the conversations.  And what conversations they were…

The Dating Corner

I learned all about Yellow Peril’s blind date up North with a girl from The Star Cleaners. Unfortunately, YP discovered that he didn’t actually fancy her — but rather preferred her friend. What followed is probably best left to the imagination, although I suspect the friend may have had something to say about the whole arrangement!  Hash Flash then felt compelled to share his own experiences of dating with YP, and from there the conversation took a decidedly more interesting turn.

This led to a fascinating — and entirely unscientific — discussion between HF and YP about why, in their wide experience tall women are less enthusiastic in bed.  Was it because they consider themselves more attractive, and therefore more self-assured and confident? Did being tall give them such an advantage in the dating market that they simply didn’t feel the need to put quite as much effort into the horizontal gymnastics?  Or was there, perhaps, another explanation?  The discussion produced no scientific evidence whatsoever, although the general consensus seemed to be that whatever the height of the woman, at this stage of life both hashers were simply grateful for whatever they could get.  It was certainly an illuminating conversation — and one which I suspect neither man would have had quite so freely if they had known that I was quietly storing the details away for the write-up!

Men v Women

Apart from matters of sex and dating, most of the men’s conversation appeared to revolve around their various aches, pains, injuries and bodily malfunctions.  It was less Hash House Harriers and more The Waiting Room at Woking Community Hospital.  The Harriettes, meanwhile, had much more important matters to worry about.  Would there be enough wine in Provence next week?  And, crucially, would it last more than the first day?  Now that is what I call having your priorities in order.

The Trail

Our hares managed to find us some lovely new territory, despite the fact that we have run from the Jolly Farmer several times before.  No Nookie did a great job of keeping the pack together and the trail was very well laid with plenty of flour for once.  There were plenty of checks, giving the pack time to regroup and allowing those at the back to pretend they were there deliberately. The front runners also did a remarkably good job of marking the checks, meaning that for once nobody got lost.

Several hashers were extremely relieved to find the promised W, at which point they abandoned all pretence of being interested in the trail and headed enthusiastically for home.  MoLE was meanwhile doing her usual intricate and helpful marking using twigs, leaves and whatever other natural debris she could find.

The ‘Bucket’

At the bucket, the GM welcomed our visitors from North Hants, the Spanish Mafia, as well as the alleged MAGA contingent and Raffles.  Our RA was also back in the fold after taking a week off to find more joke books.  We were therefore treated to the full benefit of his research.  He was particularly intrigued to discover that not a single Harriette had a tattoo, which rather ruined one of his carefully prepared jokes.  But did this stop him?  Of course not. The absence of a tattoo has never been allowed to stand in the way of an RA and a joke that he’s already rehearsed.

Down Downs

BlueSuit — for not checking, because apparently he is not allowed to check in case he gets lost..

Hornblower — for fitting hashers together.  I can’t remember how she did this?

Bonn Bugle – for being disparaging about ~Teq’s little thing

The Pub

There was, thankfully, plenty of room in the pub. However, there was one devastating piece of news. They had run out of rosé wine.  Hope that is not an omen!!

On On Bonn Bugle