The big event of the year had arrived. The Hangover Hash was upon us. A motley crew skulked around outside Freeman Towers giving the place a bad name until ‘Hairbrush ‘ Barclay called the pack to order and appologised for the lack of JM’s who had supplied various excuses. Photographs taken and then a small speech of no import from the hares and we were off. Bambi and I headed left for the alleyway as the trail had gone that was in 1985, 89, 92, 94, 95, 98 and 2000 so we felt we were onto a good thing. We were wrong. The pack was called back and into the houses awakening the residents and pushing down house prices.
A couple of checks and then a regroup as the pack had to cross the main road and there were those among us who had not passed the green cross code. In fact there were those among us who were used to a man with a red flag keeping cars under control but we will pass that by.
A few crafty checks and we came upon Centurion Way. We knew that we had to go right, so off we went until James found a falsie. We were puzzled. No, I mean puzzled ‘cos the other way was false too, and the back check. We were more puzzled than George Bush with an Atlas (No, Mr. President that’s Iran, Iraq has a Q in it, its next door). Finally the way was clear. The trail meant we had to climb the bank and with Miriam doing Mountain Goat impressions we followed her up (Well done Chamois). We were all quivering with anticipation knowing that the Lavant was in full flow and it had to coming soon, but no. Bluff and double bluff we were turned back through the fields just in time to bump into Miss Perfect walking Linda the greyhound with a new coat.
The Dog had the new coat you understand which made her the best dressed hasher – not that its that difficult. A few more twists and turns and we began to smell the mince pies. A tip down the previously mentioned alleyway and Old Faithful called On Inn! Within in a few minutes the pack was home dressed and tucking into Xmas goodies. The firewatchers had been getting grubb ready and Treefeller had sampled the wine just to make sure that it was not off.
Hairbrush did a good stand in and awarded Whispers the hashit for having new shoes – richly deserved but then Rasta lost her camera. However when Pancsi Enticott was awarded hasher of the year (it helps to keep in with a plumber and electrician in a cold snap) this spurred her to greater efforts and she managed to find it for the photo shoot.
Whispers was also called back and then a grand announcement was made – as this year was our 500th Hash it was only fitting that two of founders should be in charge – Sue and Miriam are to take 2003 by the scruff of the neck and keep us all in order. This done their first job was as always, to sort out the raffle.
There were of course the usual crop of prizes and unwanted Xmas presents – really WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE do hashers have as friends? Do they really give some of these things?
Still the holiday for 2 in the Seychelles was nice and matching set of cutlery courtesy of a member of the Royal household was also one of the better prizes. So when all prizes were awarded and all food eaten there remained nothing left but to retire and prepare for 2003.