St Andrew is the patron Saint of Scotland (though strangers who saw 'White Trashed' [Arthur] in his kilt might be forgiven for thinking he's the patron saint of transvestites) and a decent sized band of tartan-clad hashers headed for the hills somewhere or other outside Damascus. The weather was very un-Scottish, with glorious sunshine taking the place of the traditional (for Scotland) rain. Still, hares Arthur and Bill had obviously put some thought into the location, since the rolling hills and conifers were a reasonable approximation of the Scottish countryside. It was prime Haggis-breeding country but we didn't manage to spot any of the little blighters; though I think one might have bitten me on the bum at one stage (or was that Rafi?).
Hashmaster and Hare Arthur (supported by Bill, and Wise Pranker [Paul] for the large band of walkers) regaled (?) us with a seemingly endless stream of facts about the year 1380. Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing. After a brief lecture on St Andrew himself, who never even made it to Scotland in his lifetime, during which we learned that he was born Be'said his mother and that Scotland is literally the end of the earth (those of us who live there knew that already!) and that there were 6 checks - yes another long one... we set off.
Breaking with tradition (I seem to recall some unlucky hare getting a down down for doing the same thing last year) it was a check straight from the circle. However the runners soon found the trail and set off into the woods. The first check was supposed to include a test on how much the runners had paid attention to the briefing. The answer was immediately clear - (almost) no-one had listened to the instruction that ALL CHECKS ARE HOLD CHECKS and since there was no H in the circle the hares arrived to a deserted checkpoint. Karen and Martin promptly disappeared to run their own hash for the next 45 minutes and didn't catch up with the pack until check No.4, by which time they had missed out on 50% of Scotland's cultural history (the short version) as provided by Arthur. Before that point, the runners were nearly outnumbered by the hares! True to form for Arthur, all roads led up hill, until we got to the top. After that, we reluctantly had to go down, though there was a sting in the tail in the form of a final uphill leg to the cars. The trail also led past a very aromatic area - either the farmers were spreading manure or [INSERT YOUR OWN JOKE ABOUT SOCKS HERE].
After what seemed like an eternity, the runners overtook the walkers - at least Richard and Cunning Stunt did since they had missed/ignored the final false trail marker - and made it back to the cars. Down downs for the hares, for Karen, Martin, Cunning Stunt and Richard (see above), Richard again for wearing a hat in the circle along with Dolly & (?) for committing some sort of misdemeanour on the walk (I didn't know that was even possible!) and various virgins whose names I didn't get, who couldn't decide whether they were in Syria to look after their husbands or not, and baby Mariam, the star of the show.
There were also lavish prizes for being a runner; and would you believe that Arthur had managed to find more amazing facts about the year 1380, the strongest argument yet for censorship of the Internet. Of course we all politely stayed to listen, especially as he had confiscated the car keys. From there it was off to the wilds of West Mezzeh for hot soup, pizza, shortbread, more beer and other traditional Scottish foods, all washed down by some Scottish folk music.
On on
WTB
|
|