Ugly sisters argue
From a distance it seemed like a case of “she said! she said!” That will make you wonder why this is a short report.
In absentia it was the only way to get a hold on the goings – on at St Ives last Monday nite.
Dodgey weather AGAIN although nowhere near as wet as Tweety Pie’s run there a month or so ago.
Hares, Cinderella and Sheep Dip thought it would be good to set the run the previous Friday; “shit that’s risky” someone once said. Well, I suppose if you want to go kayaking, walking, sailing, caving, groping, golfing, or whatever on the weekend, then Friday it is. So, set trail Monday afternoon and you sail close to the wind. Then, the poor old TM; Salty, not Druid, come on; tries to help/assist/check/verify and ends up spluttering out of the bush at 6.29 only to have to turn around and do it again.
The trail heads west this time towards the Wildflower Garden then back east in a big loop, and as a result of staying away from the bitumen, is quite long. The walkers did their bit in just over an hour despite the assistant TM’s map being whisked from his hand by a fast running Short Fuse. The aforementioned SF realising the map wasn’t worth the paper it was written on promptly nailed it to a tree for the benefit of some poor lost Sunday walker. The usual suspects, Music Man, Your Choice, Kitty Litter, and Flasher blasted their way around the bush to join the walkers at the bucket.
With most of the Committee lying low somewhere in the world, the likes of Hash Cash Tartan Bed were called on to show their cooking expertise. And expertise abounded as comments like “the best steak I’ve ever had at the Posh” were heard to be uttered. Apologies, Moonbeams, you got Nautilus’s rare steak. In reality they were steaks left over from the previous run at Thornleigh so they could have only been better by age.
Chastity was still at the dishwasher so Presidential Grand Master Darwin Don picked up the mic and gave you what for.
The hares received their due punishment.
Two visitors tonite, Person A and Person B, young and likely to return.
Your Choice was regaled for wearing some sort of hi-tech, gaudy footwear. I wonder if the beer tasted any good when drunk from a vessel the same shade as a technicolor yawn
No more quality jokes either, I understand
Then we all disappeared into the nite.
Your Absent Hash Journo