It was a wild, wet and windy night, no thanks to the Devonport Hash Monk Ringo who was later seen happily scoffing into a bowl of little dicks and escaping scott-free from a down while the rest of us froze our tits off. I personally hope his anemometer seizes up as retribution.
With the pack deemed complete at quarter to, it was down the road to Nes's place, then a bit of beach, a bit of defunct caravan park, with plenty of Masterchecks to keep the walkers and r*nners together, a very skilfull hare all in all. It pissed the r*nners off no end, particlarly Dint, which is always a bonus.
Eventually we all ended up out on the four lane highway, possibly not the most imaginative hashing territory. But there was plenty of trail, and the walkers were given the arse just outside
Back at the Soff Inn, Who ran a circle certain to wilt any salad green you could name, with many downs distributed for crimes real and imagined. Launceston H3 sent Abba to check for civilised life on the Hashing northwest coast, and luckily he didn't find any, and has gone home a happy man.
The wrigged raffle went on longer than War and Peace, with a much happier ending. The prizes were...um...creative...um...there were no cans of baked beans this week... OK, so Crow won a DVD, a kind of, well, sporty type of thing. It was a lot more popular as a prize than the nipple chiller ice-cube trays (can't imagine why - they are so useful), and may just have set a precedent. Hope you have some more of those in you bottom drawer, Flasher.
A most hospitable evening, a regular occurrence at the Soff residence. The new family member (canine) is not yet that well trained, but does a mean job as the pre-rinse cycle on the dishes.
Next week's r*n - stay tuned for news on the blog.
Don' forget LoonRhasH on this coming Saturday night, 7pm at Penguin from the boatramp near the caravan park.
On! On! Dini