Maia in Christmas Hashing Frenzy!

by our special correspondent, A. Nonny-Mouse.

Maia residents reported strange occurances last Sunday throughout the town and its rural margins. Thirty-two sweaty individuals, many dressed in lurid, seasonal costumes were seen charging round the streets and heading into any remnant of countryside that could be found. In particular, it was noted that rival gangs of pirates were roaming around, led by rival Peter Pans, one of whom was spotted clutching a horde of coloured baubles, clearly booty plundered on her nefarious journey.
Terrified locals complained of the group's blood-curdling cries of 'OOOONN, OOOONN!!', the gaudy fright-sight in a nightdress of one known ominously as the 'Bunbasher', a wild-looking, red-headed, mother-christmas figure who was reported to 'love sausage', and a babe from Brunei wearing trousers that no innocent person should ever have to witness, particularly at this time of goodwill.
We caught up with these interlocuters at their portal, where demonic 'down-down' rituals are enacted, fuelled by alcohol. We learnt that they had possessed a local house, owned by a Mark and Anna Duffy, for yet more of this obscene mulled-wine and seasonal nibble abuse. The unfortunate victims were later lured to the group's place of 'bash' at which no fewer than thirty-nine people viciously crammed into a restaurant for reckless abandon, and Picanha, clear and disturbing evidence of the cult's growing popularity.
After feasting, certain reprobates were singled out, recognised for standing out even amongst such a crowd: a 'Rhythm Stick' was considered to have come up with the best disguise, or 'costume' as it was euphamistically named; a member of the youth wing, a certain 'Banana Split' was given a prize for collecting the greatest amount of glittering booty along the way, followed by a shady figure known simply as ... Dave; then a certain 'Spanker' was rewarded for the top moment of this invidious collection's year - ''chasing after the gypsies in Tui". This individual, dazed by her success, or perhaps a gallon of vinho verde, was heard to splutter, "it's not like it sounds", leaving us only able to speculate how evil the reality must have been. To finish it off, a godfather-like figure, whom they called, the 'Tim', asked a series of questions to test the level of his minions' depravity, or general knowledge.
Everyone left in fine fettle, one the secretive, 'Dutch Cap' to spread this filth in the untainted environs of the Netherlands. One can only hope that such scenes are never again seen, in 2009. I believe their intention is to reconvene for more, this time, cunningly, without costumes on January the 3rd, where they plan to 'shake off the Christmas torpor'.

December's hashes

Don't forget that we have two successive hashes coming up: this Sunday (the 6th) hared by Andy (Whippit) and Alan (Never-a-Fokker), which should be a treat, and which will feature the fleeting return of old stalwarts, AJ and Diane Jeronimo (Last Stand and Lady Godiva).
Then it is Jingle Bells time, with me and Spanker, complete with prizes for costumes, various awards and a special Christmas quiz at the bash.
Make sure you vote here for your hash highlight of 2009 - the results will be revealed at the bash.
Let's have some bumper turn-outs for these two!
On, on,
Mark/Plunger

Puppy Love

So, off we went again, on the 22nd of November, around the village of Laundos, close to Rates, where we did Hash 240. This time Big Stick and Pretty Vacant were the hares, having taken a drenching setting it the day before.
Seventeen turned out, plus three dogs, of whom more later. It was a predominantly rural affair, through fields, woods and very muddy trails much of the time and up one or two severe slopes (somewhat to the disgruntlement of Dutch Cap: "There's no pit stop, it's all uphill and we've been going over two hours," she complained at one point, with a face like the clouds threatening from the Atlantic.). There was many a bloodied leg, and some rank trainers by the end, after we had descended from the local hill atop of which sits some pretty little windmills, the inevitable chapel (São Félix, in this instance) and which commanded spectacular views up and down the coast. Mathematical saddos Hard Drive and Firkin Ell then proceded to discuss exactly how many steps were on the descent to the cars before the down-downs.
Oh yes, the dogs: I don't know what Sanath is feeding Oliver at the moment, but his dander seems to be up. Spurned repeatedly by Batwoman's Pushka (stop sniggering at the back there, Droopy!), he turned his attention to Pretty Vacant and seemed decidedly keen to express his luurve. Her attempt to copy Pushka's 'bugger off!' bark, only served to highten Oliver's ardour - something on the lines of, 'well, I'm up for it.'

Villages, Rivers and Hills

After two legs of our three-on-the-trot hash programme we can sit back and reflect on being fairly lucky with the weather and running through some pleasant rural locales.
On the 8th, Matt and Lynn (Rhythm Stick and Yankee Doodler), expertly mentored by the old hand of Sue/Horny, took us to the village of Rates, a lovely little place in nice countryside that seems to be particularly well looked after by its council, which has placed information boards and walking route markers around its historical features. Unnoticed by all bar Bunbasher, the walking route provided the framework of the hash. At one point, Alan 'Never-a-Fokker' Roberts turned to me and said, "You know, he's amazing. He has an uncanny instinct for the right direction." Well, not necessarily - he's just observant.
This was one on which I hobbled slowly with what turned out to be an abdominal muscle strain that steadily grew worse. The drizzle was light but fairly persistent, although it let up for the pit stop, which was in an old, cobbled lane beside a water pump that somehow kept half the hashers happy for ten minutes or so, bless them. The rain started to increase just after we finished, but, unknowingly, the hares had provided shelter and nice, clean toilets for the down-downs and changing for lunch. This was the moment for Sandra to be named, as she duly was, as Poppycock.
Then last Sunday we headed up the Douro for another three-hared hash, with two first-time hares, Wim (Family Jewels) and Poppycock (spelled Poopycock all week in Hard Drive's e-mails), supported by Mrs Slocombe, whose thirtieth birthday it also happened to be. The rain that lashed down virtually all night and day held off completely whilst we hashed and down-downed, which was nice. Wim proved to be a slow learner when he trotted off in the right direction immediately at the first checkpoint (reminiscent of Matt checking the wrong way mid-way round his own hash the previous week). String-thieves proved a blight on this one, also given character by probably the first hash done in green wellies (Sandra!). It was a very nice area, again, despite the hills, and a scramble or two.
Next week the Hills take us. Hopefully we will get a big turn out.
On, on.

The season of chilly hashes

The weather seems to have changed, and we appear to be in the season of blustery running, when you relish that change into warm clothes and bundling into cosy restaurants for the bash. Plunger and I got back from our little half-term trip to Andalucia to find that Halloween seemed to have frightened off the hares, so there was no hash last week. Sitting in our damp, smelly flat on Sunday (no that wasn't just our hasing trainers hanging around - we got back from our trip to find that we had had three thousand litres of water flood it the week before), with no hash to do, we twiddled our restless thumbs and thought about what we might do for the Jingle Bells in a few weeks' time.
We've now got three hashes in three weeks, after a three week gap. I'm hoping we get some good turnouts; numbers have been pretty healthy this year, although the last one was reduced to just nine. It certainly makes a hare feel that the effort is worth it when there are good numbers.
On, on!

Broken bones and hurried hashes

Hello hashers,
Well, last weekend took an unexpected and unwelcome turn, with Flasher/Dot falling and breaking her upper arm so severely that she required an operation and stay in hospital. Obviously, we all send our best wishes and hope that she makes a quick recovery. Even more painful, surely, though, must have been the knowledge that she would be unable to set the hash with Horny (to celebrate her birthday, what's more).
In the event, I took over, and, with little time to prepare, decided to go out on Sunday morning, set it, and then hare it. In the event, I didn't get back to the start until about forty minutes after the hash had begun, so had to catch everyone up. It's certainly the first time I've done two hashes without stopping (other than to wonder where they had parked, given that it was not at the designated start point). I suppose it is inevitable that I got two down-downs as a result.
Well done to the little band of hashers who made it despite all the things conspiring against us last week.
The previous hash was a beauty, set by Boozy Woozy and Mrs Slocombe in the beautiful and little-touched estuary area of Murtosa, near Aveiro. It was a lovely day and a well-constructed run, with a pit-stop in a tasca that resembled an East Anglian pub, but with chilled port instead of real ale.
The weather shows signs of changing now, so it'll be on with the winter warmers and ... on, on!

PH3 Summer

The title of my earlier post was meant to refer to the super, soaraway, Summer sensation of PH3 continuing through late July and August. Well done to everyone involved, especially the hares, and Hard Drive, who from what I could judge, really drove it all.