So, it seems a while ago (there's a reason for that, I suppose), but we finished 2012's hashing in memorable style with a Jingle Bells run that saw the expected array of outlandish and festive costumes being hauled through wind and rain on a day that, under other circumstances, would have been deemed miserable. There is nothing like a hash though to dispell the miserable and so, albeit with numbers slightly foreshortened on the day, thirty-seven becostumed loons set off in good spirits from a spot around the corner from the Club (well, thirty-six, actually, Mrs Slocombe being so late that he only drove up as we were at the second checkpoint - he later claimed that this constituted being on time). After some meandering in the vicinity we turned to cross the Arrabida bridge, with driving wind and rain hitting us head-on, and nearly also the traffic, famously safe and reliable, of course, as it hurtled into Porto. There was not a great deal of stopping to enjoy the view on this occasion. By this stage we had lost one hare (Mega Tongue), three children (hers), and two lazy buggers (Walkie Talkie and Family Jewels), but the remaining thirty-one pressed on.
Once across, amid mutterings about how a return would be effected, given the distances to the other bridges and back, we headed down, via the shopping areas of Arrabida and the hilly back roads, with patches of the remaining greenery (around this time you might have heard, from the lips of older hahsers - let's say Bunbasher, to pluck a name out, something along the lines of 'when I were but a hashing lad, all this were fields and ...' before you ran out of earshot), until we reached the riverside at Afurada. A quick tour of the village gave the locals something to smile about before we stopped at the quayside to wait for the ferry to Foz. Eschewing centuries of cultural grooming and proud Porto tradition, the ferryman turned out to be a man keen to keep to timetables so we had to watch him go moments before we arrived and to wait patiently for his return, but when it came it was with Mega Tongue, her children and, most importantly (sorry, but let's be realistic, here!), the pit stop - bubbly and Christmas cake - which was polished off with impressive efficiency on the journey across the river.
Back on the other side, with Mega Tongue's brood now back in our midst, it was a half hour twist and turn back to the start, taking in the ever-hashworthy 'Romantic Routes', and the scenic delights of an on-back at the base of the Arrabida Bridge which was basically an enormous drug users injecting and dumping ground - not a place in which to take a tumble.
After soggy down-downs we repaired to the Club, which enabled a shower and warmth ahead of the excellent bash, complete with quiz and various awards. Best Costume went to Squirrel and Snorter (at last - all the years of hurt, all the outfits imposed upon her family, all the sewing machine hours had paid off for Squirrel - Greg, it's okay, you don't have to be the snowman again); Hash Moment of the Year for a while was a close run thing, Snorter's facial realignment garnering notable support, but eventually the clear winner was ... Squirrel and Spanker's brush with the law in the arse end of beyond back in the autumn; and finally, Hasher of the Year went two ways, to Spanker and Master Baker for their sterling efforts throughout the year.
Of course, all this was back on the 16th of December, and it has taken me that long to get around to writing about it, which means that tomorrow, as I write, we are back into it once more. 2013 is with us, the 425th weekend on the horizon. Time, like a naughty hasher, waits for no man.
On, on!
No comments:
Post a Comment