It’s all downhill now
That’s right the Mondays are getting longer from now on as we head towards summer. As usual to celebrate the shortest hashing day of the year Khyber Pass and his band of merry men set our Summer-Run-in-Winter at Ingleside Scout Camp. This means a 4pm start so that no one gets caught in the dark without a torch, and if you missed the 4.15 cut off time you did the short walk. It was easy to get to the start if you didn’t try to enter from Chiltern Rd like Bumcrack did – wrong, and pointed out on the run details as a no go. Your Scribe did have to clarify this with the Hares as last time he went to this venue in 1969 Chiltern Rd was the only way in – it also required one to use the old blitzwagon left onsite to travel the last half a K.
The trail took us into the hills with the mention of virgin territory – something which is getting more and more difficult to believe as we approach 50 years of exploring the environs of Sydney, and humanity encroaches or our bush. This “virgin territory” required clambering over boulders the size of The Devil’s Marbles to get to the summit, and the site of an old crucifixion?(“Jesus I can see your place from here”) Just as well Slick had stayed home all day in his jarmies so as not to damage his bod before going on holidays on Tuesday. Little Shit (who you can be sure hadn’t called the pack On) and Flying Scotsman were first to the top – according to Little Shit anyway. The whole pack made it to the top and enjoyed the view before the wheels started to fall off for a few. Your Choice pursued an on-back which he said took him “45kms out of his way towards Terrey Hills” – Nah! It wasn’t that far shirley? Scud went in for a little de-barking and came into the Bucket displaying blotches of red.
As the evening cooled down we adjourned inside the Scout Hall to the warmth of an open fire – Colonel Sanders was chief stoker tonight. When 40 of us sat down to lamb with roast vege salad it was easy to work out who had a real job and was missing – like Lightning and Hoarse Whisper – ‘cause this venue would have been a home game for them. XXXX was missing (he’s never worked) so all of the red wine went into glasses and then into a hashman.
The President called order for the Downs and the Hares Khyber Pass and Wraparound, plus chef Grape Ape got a beer for their troubles. Seems that 777’s wife dresses him and the President didn’t approve so a beer for him – someone needs to teach our new hashers how to drink. As an aside his missus can dress me any time. Bumcrack had to get the stuff-up award and a free beer and Goonshow received a down for claiming the meal “was the best fuckin’ meal of all times” –Really?
Joke time! Pee Dub took a dolly bird home and all she did was left a turd and a dainty hanky on his front lawn. Pilko has discovered a replacement system when your egg timer is broken. Jack the Ripper told one about……… bloody predictive text haven’t a clue what my note meant. Then Bumcrack approached the fire place, cigar in hand, and placed his scotch on the mantle-piece before telling us that a twat makes a good vase.
On On
Bigamist