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 HASH MAG ARCHIVE 1995: RUN NO.620 Run Date: 11 September 1995 The Cadover Creep There was a bit more woodwork creeping going on this week. The evening started well, with a heated discussion in the car park at Cadover Bridge with Old Ferret's brother type person (very fit; marathon in ten minutes, five hour run before breakfast etc.), either to wear duo layer laminate Goretex integrally ventilated all weather system or kecky old dish cloth his mum knitted. The decision paled into insignificance later on as he discovered, whilst trailing Zippy's heels, that the torch kindly leant to him by his brother was as about as bright as the collective intelligence of the entire Drake hash. i.e. not. "The long is quite long". Thus spoke Skippy. After a bit of foot wetting in the Plym, the long persons duly disappeared around the side of some great lump into the boondocks, leaving the shorts and those recovering from over indulgent holidays to meander up to the Trowelsworthy tors. We were rewarded on top by a fine sunset and a finely reasoned discourse from Dishy upon the art of following a hash and why you do not have to zealously follow every bloody bit of sawdust. It was probably prompted by Skippy moaning: "Why don't people follow the sawdust? - waste of time laying it - taken all that trouble - dust gets everywhere - simply not appreciated" etc.etc. No different from what every hare says every week. Rearrange these words to form a sentence: blame, the, I, hare. Nobody was told that it was Limpalong's birthday until everyone was well inside the Moorland Hotel at Wotter. Poor old bugger was probably scared of being baptised in the Plym if anyone found out earlier. As it was, he narrowly escaped having his forehead used as a recyclable greetings card when Rover found himself with a felt pen in his hand. But El Limpo bought us all a drink, so he is a very nice man. A very very nice man.
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