Lune Valley Hash House Harriers

Monday 10th December 2018
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R*n 442 location

R*n 442 started from the On Inn - The Priory, Scorton.

Who ran 442? - data up to & including this r*n

Hash HandleHareHoundTotal
Stinkerbell - Hare21113
Any Old Bastard (Visitor)011
Baldbrick23246269
Bitter31143174
Dover Soil033
Highway15171186
Major Twit19143162
Minor Twat19126145
Muddy Waters011
No More Cum23154177
Shiggy Pop077
Twisted31153184
Upperskirt23299322

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Monday 29th October 2012 at 7:00pm

Full MoonR*n 442 »

Scorton

We stood there, scantily clothed, catching our breath on a northern hilltop. Our eyes met and in them were reflected the northern lights, a shimmering compliment to the golden orb. Stinkerbell showed me her Nicky Nook and then pointed out the significance of the various coloured jewels enhancing the vista, a promise of what dreamy pleasures could be enjoyed by daylight. The rest of the sweaty hashers were there too of course, but the moment…. Apparently one red light indicated the location of wind turbines off Walney Island, two red lights was either Blackpool Tower or Twisted’s front room window (together with a “night off” sign) and multiple red lights meant radio masts at Inskip. It was all too much for a man to take in.

Earlier I had been pleased to see 14 hashers turn up for a night run, straight after a weekend of hashing in the North East. The ghoulish theme was perpetuated by me and Stinker. My garb was soon discarded following a rapid rise in body temperature, though Stinker persevered until the end with her skilfully improvised devils’ horns. That end came when she handed them to Baldbrick in the pub. A sharp crack preceded their untimely demise on the fire. The pre-run circle saw me the victim of a devilish female conspiracy, which affords you the pleasure of reading this rambling record of events.

The run was just right – hills, rocks, shiggy, babbling brooks, sights of lights and plenty of flour. There was plenty of flour for most of us at least, though Baldbrick and Highway still managed to stray off course and their return might have been delayed even further had it not been for the energetically concerned hare. As the athletes amongst us waited back at the pub for their return, I was privy to a conversation between Major Twit and Twisted concerning bikes. It turns out that Twisted is the mistress tyre-changer at home, while Bitter prefers to call out the RAC, even for his bike!

We were also joined by Any Old Bastard, who hails from Chorley, has his home hash on the Falkland’s and was named in Dubai. He is a teacher, but is now looking for a proper job. Shiggy Pop turned up again with her FRB friends, both of whom await the pleasure of hash names. She revealed an alarming ignorance of English comedy culture, when “fork handles” produced a blank expression. I guess she can be forgiven that one with roots extending to the far edge of the Atlantic.

The Priory did themselves proud on our behalf by putting on an adequate supply of chips and sandwiches, despite food not being normally available at this time. The stalwarts were there until last orders and I can report that all bills were paid in full.

On on, NMC

No More Cum

Write up by No More Cum

2nd November 2012 at 7:47pm