Lune Valley Hash House Harriers

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R*n 443 location

R*n 443 started from the On Inn - Black Bull, Brookhouse.

Who ran 443? - data up to & including this r*n

Hash HandleHareHoundTotal
Baldbrick - Hare24246270
Upperskirt - Hare24299323
Antiseptic43215258
Bitter31144175
Bubbles54239293
Cyberseptic52201253
Dormouse12103115
Forever Blowing42235277
Major Twit19144163
Minor Twat19127146
No More Cum23155178
Off His Trolley17159176
Sir Tom Tom21120141
Speedbump1293105
Twisted31154185
White Noise15143158

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Sunday 11th November 2012 at 11:00am

DaytimeR*n 443 »

Caton Moor - AGPU

Black Bull Brookhouse car park at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, and LVH3 observed a two-minute silence in memory of those who had made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. Dormouse, fearful that a collection might be taken, hid round the corner with Speedbump until he was sure that his pocket would not be called upon to make an even greater sacrifice.

Outgoing GM, and hare for this r*n, Upperskirt then gave us our instructions and sent us on our way with the time-honoured exhortation to "Check it out!", and five minutes later (she forgot to say please), off we went. The r*n started with a wimps/ rambos split and, predictably, Minor Twat nailed his colours to the "W" mast. Unpredictably, though, he decided to do a Usain Bolt and sprinted off like greased sh*t. It was like Duracell bunny versus the 50p-a-dozen batteries from the street market. Fortunately, the trail cunningly avoided the speed camera on the A683, as he would surely have been fined. Not only was his wimping reputation in tatters, he was so quick he got to the first beer stop before the beer! Serves him right, I say.

The trail, almost entirely on lanes, tracks and bridleways rather than through fields, was thankfully relatively shiggy-free, and was eminently runable, apart from a steep two mile uphill section. A fish-hook at the top caused us some dismay, though, when we realised that White Noise was probably still at the bottom! Some of us decided to compromise, and waited about ten minutes before going down to meet her. Interestingly, an early part of the trail took us past Baldbrick's former place of work, where apparently he spent 39 years (see photo)! We concluded that the guy is obviously a lot older than he looks. Amazing how he keeps going really.

Back to the Bull, and a last chance for outgoing RA STT to chastise the wilfully disobedient and punish wrongdoers. Forever Blowing was charged with the wearing of suspiciously pristine footwear. Cyberseptic and Dormouse were found guilty of wearing hats in the circle (does their disrespect of authority know no bounds?). Minor Twat was convicted of bringing wimping into disrepute.

That done, into the newly refurbished Bull for drinks and....food! Yes folks, the kitchen is now up and running again after eight long months, and the general consensus was that the new chefs had got off to a promising start. Good food, reasonable prices and lots of 2-for-1 offers available all the time!

Finally, the AGPU! Never mind your fancy electoral colleges, the US of A could learn a lot from the sheer simplicity of the LVH3 voting system. International observers might raise an eyebrow at the shameful multiple votes cast by some members, but hey ho! Nor do we drag the proceedings out over two years with caucuses, primaries and televised debates - when the food arrives, meeting closed! Sir Tom Tom was voted GM (an excellent choice), with Baldbrick as RA (hope the weight of added responsibility doesn't compromise his horn playing); other officials retain their existing posts, as they're just so good! No More Cum becomes Deputy RA, which could be interesting as he tends to get more down downs than the average hasher; poacher turned gamekeeper perhaps?

Once the food had been eaten, some of the older and more fragile hashers departed, which was reassuring as we tend to worry if Twisted isn't tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa by three o'clock, bless her. The Septics were about to leave, when Antiseptic looked at the TV and saw about thirty mud-splattered men running aimlessly around a field; thinking they were hashers, she decided to stay. The mudmen ran around for forty minutes, then presumably disappeared for a beer stop before running for another forty minutes. Dormouse looked on rather subdued, as half of the mudmen were Scottish and didn't seem to be doing very well.

Then we were down to four, and at one point Dormouse actually offered to buy a round of drinks. While the paramedics were reviving Baldbrick with their defibrillator, Dormouse realised that his promise had been a bit rash, and managed to wriggle out of it by looking at the rail timetable and deciding that he really ought to catch a train.

That left just the GM and RA and at 5.20 p.m., there being no other business and Hash Cash having cleared off with the beer money, the meeting was adjourned.

Sir Tom Tom

Write up by Sir Tom Tom

12th November 2012 at 10:03pm