This includes FartyBum’s seven pages of explanation how she got lost…
Brought to you by our beer sponsor….
This includes FartyBum’s seven pages of explanation how she got lost…
Brought to you by our beer sponsor….
Nothing was said of course, but you could feel the disappointment over the internet. No one was blamed but we’d missed the deadline!! Training regimes were being hatched, imaginations buzzing for outfits, taste buds reminiscing those muscular Bellet wines, but to no avail! Les authorities a dit ’Non!’ Yet, as Sadist taught us in Albenga, when we have a fairy godmother ‘You shall go to the Ball!’!
As announced, the start was the Saint Isidore car park. At 10:30, the preannounced starting time & no sign of the hare the pack encircled the visiting associate. Visibly concerned having fallen on his already painful back – after a couple of days skiing – while setting the trail, AWOL kept emphasizing the superb flat running territory of Berkshire, his home hash. On this trail there are hills, he announced!!!! Anxious to meet the challenge, the pack took off, Pilchard sniffing the way. An ecstatic Jessie followed his lead cheered on by Jobsworth & the missing hare. Padre showing every intention of not losing the pack on one-way UP UP trail.
Walkers hung back to receive their promised short cut – a second car park at the tennis club for those not wanting to do the initial one mile of steep climbing to the top!!! Drivers already had their cars packed waiting for Farty Bum who finally gave up waiting for the hare & gave the ONON signal. Three packed cars headed uphill until forced to stop by a red light. The purpose of the large poster below the stop sign was to avert car drivers to DRIVE SLOWLY as they shared the road with pedestrians. No specific reference to hashers! After many twists & turns the cars arrived at the promised car park, dutifully parked & unloaded their share of the walkers pack.
The walkers regrouped at the car park entry to inspect the load of used furniture on the roadside, below a sign forbidding dumping. Some bargaining over the single bed frame. To be sure it could be recovered later, Sadist removed a couple of wooden slates – to fool persons less intelligent than hashers – that the bed was not usable?
Diligently crossing the road to be facing the oncoming cars, the pack was quickly in indian file. Tossing precaution to the wind the chat groups quickly formed, climbing at an impressionable pace, admiring the views & continuing unfinished business.
Spanish Fly captured nature’s early signs of the changing seasons.
Just as Lonely had so gallantly stepped in to lay the previous runner’s trail, FB stepped into the role of walker’s hare. She expertly guided the pack at each turn along this complicated one-way UP one-way DOWN trail. True to the hares promise the last weaving, climbing cross road led the walkers’ right into the square of a medieval village where the runners were already sampling wine from the local domains.
After very long explanations from the hare about the runners & walkers return trails the pack separated to begin the long descent to the start. Some peeled to the right, some to the left and drivers to retrace their steps down to their cars parked half way downhill at the tennis club.
In case of difficulty recovering from the refined air at the top of the Nice hills the hares had taken great effort, at the forks, to keep the pack on the right trail.
In fact, the majority appreciated the opportunity to turn off-road rather than outguessing the continual swish-swish of passing cars. Or was the real reason to shortcut!!! This prospect so delighted the scribe who, from experience, will seize upon any opportunity to avoid broken bones and slid down the steepest path on the bum. Thanks FB for reminding me that this technique is obviously to avoid doing a back flip like AWOL had done at this spot while setting trail.
Just at this moment the runners, who we all thought were miles ahead of us, showed up from behind. Was it their eagerness to get to the beer at the end of the trail the cause of getting so seriously lost, immediately after the wine sampling, that it took them an hour to catch up. Returning to the lower level of the start, the pack prepared for Down Downs & the closing circle.
Hares: Lonely and visitor AWOL
Visitor: AWOL from Lonely’s home hash (Shropshire?)
NB AWOL is from the Berkshire Hash and he lives in Cumlaot’s hometown in the UK
Birthday: Supermarket Trolley (again)
No Explanation: Spanish Fly
(Cumalot left to find the lost Dire Rear and Padre took over as RA).
Seeing “Spanish Fly” on Cumalot’s down-down list, Padre ordered Spanish Fly into
Spanish Fly demanded to know what he was being punished for.
Padre replied that he was on Cumalot’s list and that no further explanation was
Loser: Pedo, for leaving his clothes where they shouldn’t be left
Welsh: for losing in rugby (Pedo, Cumalot)
Mugless: No Satisfaction, Jobsworth
Techie / Nerd: Cumalot for creating a new website
AWOL, the co-hare, for leading the runners one or two kilometers downhill on the wrong trail, forcing them to lose half an hour and then run back up again
Farty Bum, for naming the train station “St Augustine” instead of “St Isadore”, for getting lost following her own
directions, for using improper names, and for nominating the co-hare for shit-of-the-week
Lonely, for traumatizing the co-hare by arriving too late so that his shy, timid co-hare was forced to make a speech
giving instructions to the runners (as well as make the decision to start the run without the hare)
Cumalot / Padre for giving a down-down to Spanish Fly with no explanation
Dire Rear for getting left behind and requiring the RA to go in search of her
After unclear voting results, Lonely sacrificed himself and took the down-down
As announced, the pack retired to the nearby Chinese restaurant for lunch.
Crisis, what crisis? A hole in the diary (no, not a**hole in the diary) was valiantly filled by our very own Canadian Mountie Farty Bum. To the rescue again, hurrah! Once Farty Bum had taken the initiative, hashers were queuing up to help her and it fell to Lonely, fresh from trying to comprehend the prehistoric coding of the hash web site, to help her.
The hash began in true Farty Bum style. Rather than following etiquette and using flour, she decided to mark the trail with pretty non bio-degradable red ribbons. Even more, she promised that the run would be very long, or maybe very short, depending on how Lonely had decided to set his part.
Pilchard, as can be seen, was clearly extatic at the prospect of not knowing whether to be running far, with short sprints to prove his racist credentials whenever an onlooker was watching, or to be running not so far, thereby giving him more energy for the sprints. So he sat down to gain energy.
Now, Pilchard, as we all know, got his name because he spent his career in tanks. Is this why he now has bionic knees, after all that crouching behind reinforced steel & titanium waiting for the bad guys to get him?
Farty Bum, meanwhile, was a real hero. Everyone else had lain low when Mme Mouton struggled to fill the hare for the day. Now that the coast was clear, many hashers turned out to enjoy her trail.
Being Cagnes and Lacey territory, she promised plently of off road and shiggy. And what did we get? Err, none, as it was all on road.
What to say about the run? Well, it started westwards towards Villeneuve Loubet before jiggling back down to the RN7 but never veering anywhere near the sea front. This was apparently because Padre was intent on showing his torso there & it would have put the body builders to shame. Or something like that.
However, it has to be said that Lonely clearly set the run either after a pastis too many or with his mind on other issues, such as web code (don’t worry folks, the hash web site is only 3 months out of date……..give it another 9 and it will look like it might actually be up to date). Anyway, Lonely is the kindest, gentlest soul (though he does argue that he has a mean streak that needs to be provoked to be seen). This meant that whilst checks were not always obvious, he compensated by regularly helping the pack on their way without even being prompted. So kind…..
Nevertheless, the markings were difficult to follow. Flour & ribbon do not mix well, with the result that several hashers detatched from the pack when we reached an “optional” FRB check. PHD & Cumalot, to name two, decided that actually there were further markings to follow to the beer car as they were getting thirsty. See below…..
Is this the first time that roadsigns have been part of the (un)official hash trail? Farty Bum & Lonely, you are so devious………
Beer stop reached, it was time to catch up for chit chat with the walkers. Jessie the dog was in her element (well, some claimed she was in her element at the Chinese restauarant for the on on, with suggestions that some of the meat was made from her brothers and sisters). In this case, element meant lots of crisps & attention after a pleasant trot around Cagnes.
The second half included a splendid climb up to old Cagnes. This gave the added bonus of an explanation of local culture from No Satisfaction. Apparently, the locals have a tournament based around rolling odd shaped boules down a cobbled street. That is a very weird pastime, definitely not like spending ¼ of your weekends running or walking just to build up an appetite for beer & food.
Old town over, it was time to revert to the start point in the big car park. The walkers had successfully navigated the trail despite, sorry, thanks to Farty Bum’s directions, whilst the dwindled gang of runners did the same, abetted once again by the over helpful hare Lonely.
Do you really expect me to remember the down downs? No notes this time, so my addled memory remembers only this:
Thanks to hares Farty Bum & Lonely for stepping in at the last minute for setting a great town trail that was well attended.
Birthdays – I don’t recall whose, but definitely not PHDs. Oh no, no, no……
Voyeurism – Jobsworth for saying hi to Supermarket Trolley as she was changing.
And many more.
As for Sh*t of the Week, I actually remember most of it this time, rather unusually. Lonely was of course nominated for being just too nice a hare. I think that Farty Bum was nominated for being Farty Bum. But I could be wrong. However, the winner was definitely Padre.
Whilst PHD did not want to make a fuss about her birthday, it is reasonable to expect that he would do so. But no, he mentioned nothing and was therefore clearly guilty of forgetting it.
On on was in a local Asian “all you can eat” restaurant. Interesting to note that Hong Kong Phooey declined to join, probably as he was worried that if he did so, the local food back in Hong Kong would never live up to it. Equally, Jessie the dog was not warmly welcome despite another dog already being in the restaurant. I don’t want to create fake news here, but rumour has it that they only needed one more dog for the kitchen as we were late to the restaurant, so Jessie was not welcome as the other was already there & being prepared. Fake news, as The Donald would say.