R*n 57: Brookhouse

An exceedingly large group gathered outside the Black Bull all eager and raring to get going, with assorted Christmas bits, some flashing.  A few folk went past while we waited - some Hashers sang carols and begged for money.  It was the dog that was the most popular, as usual, looking all sad and putting his paw out for some loose change.  A landrover went past and Atomic Caton flagged it down, she said it was her dad, a likely story.

The one and only virgin on the run, Phil was called into the circle and welcomed to LVH3.  After some instructions about needing loose change for the pub and something about an A to B to B run which confused the hell out of most of us, we were pointed towards the on on.  We swiftly ran past Rotten Row and the SB household up through Caton Green and off up the fields to the top of a hill.  We past Dobbin the Horse going up a steep hill and some of us barely managed to overtake the lame horse who Antiseptic said she felt like (no she didn't feel like having the horse, only she felt like the horse.  Well I think that's what she meant).

We all gathered at the top of the hill then through Annas Ghyl to the wimp/rambo split where the wimps made a getaway across the fields with a fine view of the valley below.  We made our way back down to civilisation to Brookhouse through Copy Lane where we were beckoned to the whisky stop by a flashing Santa aka Hash Drunk.  The cockles of our hearts were warmed by the rich spirit in Jim the vet's garden (no he doesn't have a ghost I don't think anyway).  We made our way in the dark by this time down towards the Station pub, could it be an On-Inn we thought as our loose change was still jangling in our nether regions, only to be disappointed when no more trail could be found leading us inside towards bright lights and real ale.  So we slinked past the pub back up over the fields to Brookhouse then down to point B again, the SB/TA residence. 

The brazier was duly lit to celebrate our 57th and Christmas run and we all stood round the fire mesmorised by the flames where the circle began.  It was then that the witch craft started and spells and tricks were awarded in the form of ritual Down downs to:-

• Slackbladder & Hash Drunk for haring such a fantastic Christmas run
• Virgin Phil for being a virgin and sacrificing himself to the flames
• Antiseptic for being a snitch and cheating on some unsuspecting Hasher
• Lurch, Morticia and Fowl Scrotum for being a bio-hazard
• Fugitive Nipple for something or another (probably trying to do some extreme ironing whilst hashing)
• Atomic Caton & Pickmeup for backchatting the RA about this being the only time we'd had a circle round a brazier

By this time it was well and truly dark and we ate luvly lamb and veggie curry and chilli around the fire washed down by beer and mulled wine, burp, burp, hic, hic until it was all gone.  Thanks SB and TA!  We then left all the clearing up to the poor hosts and made a hasty retreat to the pub for more fine ale.  Then we drank the night away rounded off with Bubbles and Hash Drunk cracking some god-awful jokes that were weely weely funny (you had to have been there).

Merry Chrishmash hashers, shee you in 2003!!!   On on... hic!

Pickmeup (I should stop saying that, it might happen one day!)