Saturday 24 November 2012

Lost and Found. And Lost.

Well, who would have expected such a muddle?  To start from Esposade metro station would be easy, obviously, and make for a nice, prompt start and finish.  Unfortunately, that did not take into account hash pathfinding qualities.  Wrong path-finding, that is.  By the time the car containing Mega Tongue, Judge Red, Droopy and me completed our little tour of the Maia hinterland to reach the station, the hares and respective other halves were already on the phone to Master Baker who had contrived to end up somewhere around the docks, having wisely left the club without any idea of where to go.  Just then I got a call from the absent Hard Drive to inform me that Snorter was lost somewhere and about to give up.  His voice was full of urgent dread, as though Snorter was about to give up life amid the tangle of featureless motorways between Porto and Maia, but it turned out he meant just the hash.  Mind you, without a hash, what kind of life would it be...?

All this delay served to make Mrs Slocombe, when he turned up, appear not to be late.  Clearly shaken by this, he declared that he'd forgotten something.  His dog.  He was only five minutes away, he reliably informed us, and off he went again.  Five minutes, my arse.  This is Mrs Slocombe we are talking about.  Whilst he was away, Snorter finally arrived, then, half an hour later, Mrs Slocombe returned, complete with furry friend, at exactly the same time as Master Baker with the search and rescue team that had been sent out for him.

Right, once all present and correct there was a hash to be run.  Having stood around waiting for more than an hour there was a certain stiffness to be shaken out but the route quickly did the trick.  At least we had finished waiting around for lost hashers to find us.  It was a short run, but found some very nice spots, especially the little park area beside the river Leca at which we stopped for a pit stop.  We got back to Esposade safe and sound in just over an hour, chilled for a while, then proceeded with the down-downs for the hares, Gender Bender and Ladyboy.  There were no birthdays or namings that I was aware of, so it was over to the R.A. for his bit.  R.A.... Um, where is Droopy? someone enquired.  Good question.  It appeared that he had not made it back, but no-one had noticed.  Searchers spread out in various directions.  Snorter drove towards one of the villages, whilst Pimp my Dongle and I checked a few routes without success before heading back to the group.  When we got there after ten minutes or so Droopy had been located, but now we had lost Snorter again.  Of course, this rambling tale had a happy ending and we were all reunited eventually, drinking lager out of piss pots in a cold car park like normal people. 

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