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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1991: RUN NO.419 Run Date: 18 November 1991 Full Of Eastern Promise...? Parking on the Woolwell roundabout exit which leads to nowhere was F.Ferret's equivalent to a mosque's staircase. An appropriate place to start a hash with a subtle Middle Eastern flavour on the day that Terry Waite was finally released. It was On On round fields and over banks until we arrived in downtown Beruit (or was it a building site). The sawdust took us over footings and earthmounds, then there was a tour of every mini park and green patch in Woolwell until we entered the "West Bank" of Plym Forest. It was rough, steep and wet. Channel Tunnel was discretely asked to maintain a respectful silence and lengthen his stride, whilst others were called SCBs and told to get out of the way of the "these shorts keep your equipment warm" fast runners. At the first check flashes of light revealed that many hashers were sprouting their winter coats. Whilst Heinz, Schweppes, Zippy and Nureyev do not feel the cold (no sense no feeling), Sarah had donned a hat and Cat-Man-Do had fitted an extension to her shorts. Wimpers and Yakidah had gone the whole hog and had their legs customised (or so it seemed). With HT2 blowing her Quacker, the hash proceeded at great pace along forest tracks and up the steepest, slopes. HT2 was heard to say "Get your shorts up there and pull me up"; Not Norman obliged, but perhaps not in the intended way. He didn't run as fast from there on, but HT2 gleefully tooting her Quacker had a real bounce in her stride. Nureyev kept accelerating past the scribe making engine noises and this prompted Deadly to do his Orville Wright impersonation. The take off was perfect, the flight was impressive, but the landing lacked finesse. Mud and blood splattered in all directions. Tony Hancock will never die whilst Deadly bleedsl At the next check the hare announced that he had never yet lost a hasher. (It can't be for the lack of trying!) Over a viaduct and down to the banks of the river for the wettest part of the hash. Only the plaintive toot of HT2's Quacker high above gave any indication that IAT was leading her astray. F.Feret's affinity for Foxtor Mires is well known. Clearly he was experiencing withdrawal symptoms and this caused us to be led into the deepest, stickiest, smelliest bog south of Princetown. Only the Three Wise Hashers managed to avoid it; Do Cream Soda, Wimpers and Deadly remember every track in West Devon? All that now remained was the ascent to Woolwell with ample opportunity to give more blood for this hash and observe that Endosperm's goat glands are in full working order once again. Back at the cars again, Limpalong gasped that he couldn't run because he couldn't breathe. If I had run as fast as him I couldn't breathe ever again! Hashers gradually emerged from all directions except for IAT & HT. Bart announced that Terry Waite had not been released but merely swapped for IAT. With rejoicing for Terry Waite and some sympathy for Hezbollah, we set off to the pub, only to find that IAT was alive and well and had been hashing in Plymbridge Forest. Strange creatures come out on dark winter nights, and, sure enough, there was Mimi in the pub complete with designer stubble. Relief was expressed that he had not cut off his ear and started painting sunflowers (yet!), but apparently he did have a few prints of naked landrovers. Mrs Rover got so fed up with being telephoned by her husband each Monday evening at 9.00pm that she produced a fine baby boy! Congratulations! Next spring perhaps he can come hashing with the sprog in a backpack, which, hopefully, might slow him down. It only remains to say that Slo-Jo, Squeaker & Lotus Blossom were their usual serene selves, for you all to have got a mention!
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