Tuesday 19 October 2010

One swallow doesn't (quite) make an Indian Summer

Brunie Babe and Inaction Man returned to haring duty after about a year's gap, and, following the previous hack up the dusty hillsides near Valongo, it was not without trepidation that we got in the cars in the late September sun. We had among us a virgin, David, and his friend, a visiting hasher whose spurs were won in the confines of Hong Kong, named Spit-or-Swallow, understandably abbreviated to SOS.
A roundabout drive - equated to about two curcuits of HK - in time brought us to the familiar environs of Jovim from where we set off, inevitably scrambling through wooded slopes as well as padding through fields and village streets. Droopy had seated himself onthe roadside during the lengthy wait to start and, as I made my way back after checking the wrong way initially, he remained in place, like a leftover, or an artistic installation by someone with a sense of irony, however, I managed to coaxe him into running and we were all off. Later, he was given a down-down for RA-ing like Jack Dee without jokes.
We crossed the route of about five previous hashes on our way, although it was always its own run, but, most amusingly we (unbeknownst to the hares) ran right past Boozy Woozy's house, and round the back, via the picnic and barbecue area due to be used on the following hash. Pit stop was down by the river, with French cider the surprising bevvy of choice, just sugary enough to fuel us back up to the cars by way of the aforementioned casa do BW and some overgrown woodland.
At the down-downs we saluted the birth of Chloe Boogaard, the passing of veteran hash hound, Shagger, to the happy shagging ground in the sky (let's hope he can manage it more successfully there than he did here), and were entertained by SOS's time in the circle. Finding the bash venue took about as long as the hash itself, with the hares last to locate it, but it was a pleasant do in the end.