Triple Crowned

What a week of hashing - a hashtastic, bash-a-go-go, jog around the clock of a week! The weather was with us (as were the Whites), the numbers were high and the scenery fine. I hope everyone had a suitably good time.

We began with Horny and Spanker's hatted affair up from the river bank near Gondomar. A fine sight we all were, resplendant in bizarre headgear as we assembled at the Club. It was a warm morning, which meant that, after the short drive, the decidedly pungent aroma at the start point was enhanced. Walkie-Talkie swiftly denied having anything to do with it, pointing instead to the sewage centre beside which we had brilliantly parked, but I wasn't so sure.

The hash was a good old slog up and around the semi-urban areas looking down over the river, with a remarkable pit-stop on the first floor of a three-quarters built house, with white port and tonic (and a sprig of mint plucked from one of the pleasant fields through which we had just come) the beverage of choice. Full marks for the pit stop, but a D for the French grammar!

To be continued...