As the country huddled away to avoid the wind and the rain last Saturday, Snorter and Hot Pants were getting lost - sorry, temporarily misplaced due to the GPS - in Serzedo, laying out the trail for Sunday's hash. As we arrived at the starting point, the wind having dropped overnight but the cold, slicing rain beginning to come down heavily, we were startled to see the roundabout at the end of the muddy track being used as a racetrack/skid course for the local special needs school (I may have made that last bit up - they did not look that bright).
"Honestly." Tongue Fu and I rolled eyes at one another, tutting. "Ridiculous." The rain began to drip from my eyebrows as my feet sunk into the mud. Far better to do something mature and sensible, like us.
We set off at a clip, following Snorter's encouraging "0n, on" only to be called back after a hundred yards. Apparently, "on, on" meant "checkpoint" and in the end we headed in the opposite direction. It was a tight course, winding round and around the area, crossing itself a couple of times and showing Snorter's experienced touch. It was running at pleasing pace, without the need for a single re-group, and we made it back, after a wet pit stop, in about an hour and a half.
Having managed to lose Hot Pants and Hard Drive - and thosae following them - when they followed Monica back to her house on the way to the start, they managed heroically to repeat the feat on the way to the bash, at Monica and Liam's regular chicken place. This came after incurring the mandatory down-down for the crime, after Snorter had been recognised for his 170th.
So, now we get ready for the big one - the 350th. Let's all take it up the Douro!
On, on!
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