Despite being determined not to crash again, I did just that, twice.The first time I was on my own checking the wrong way on a narrow path, hit a fence and ended up in a noxious drain full of unspeakable black goo. I have a habit of diving into this stuff, of course, as N2TH3 hashers will know. So I turned up last at the beer stop covered in black excrement wondering why nobody would talk to me.The second time was more spectacular. As I was flying over the handlebars coming back from checking the wrong way again, time slowed down and I was thinking "On No! Not again" before I crash landed full stretch on the road. Then I thought I'd lay there for a while, winded, and hoping that I had not done any major injury to myself. While lying there, Lip Service's sweet girlish voice was whispering in my ear "Plod, Plod, are you all right?? I could not bear it if you are not. Life would be unthinkably miserable without you etcetera etcetera". I started tio feel warm all over but then in the background I am sure I heard Moonie say something like "Plod's croaked it. Bags I his helmet, I've always fancied Plod's helmet!" while Salesman had his hand down my expensive cycling shorts, later explaining that he was trying to help me breathe. In the meantime, BJ was muttering something about there being one less fat bastard to compete with, next would be Golden Balls.At that point I sprang to my feet, wiped off the blood and mounted my bike, once again checking the wrong way and ending up in the rear again. However, I made up time and G-Spot ensured I was off in the lead behind BJ for the final Rambo split. Coming out of the shiggy I though a bit of OAP cheating was in order so I short cut to the ferry and was first across leaving the pack behind a queue of tourists shaking their fists at me and willing me to sink into the mire. And thence On In….Thank you Golden Balls and G-Spot for a memorable day out 🙂
Northern New Territories Hash 
Despite being determined not to crash again, I did just that, twice.The first time I was on my own checking the wrong way on a narrow path, hit a fence and ended up in a noxious drain full of unspeakable black goo. I have a habit of diving into this stuff, of course, as N2TH3 hashers will know. So I turned up last at the beer stop covered in black excrement wondering why nobody would talk to me.The second time was more spectacular. As I was flying over the handlebars coming back from checking the wrong way again, time slowed down and I was thinking "On No! Not again" before I crash landed full stretch on the road. Then I thought I'd lay there for a while, winded, and hoping that I had not done any major injury to myself. While lying there, Lip Service's sweet girlish voice was whispering in my ear "Plod, Plod, are you all right?? I could not bear it if you are not. Life would be unthinkably miserable without you etcetera etcetera". I started tio feel warm all over but then in the background I am sure I heard Moonie say something like "Plod's croaked it. Bags I his helmet, I've always fancied Plod's helmet!" while Salesman had his hand down my expensive cycling shorts, later explaining that he was trying to help me breathe. In the meantime, BJ was muttering something about there being one less fat bastard to compete with, next would be Golden Balls.At that point I sprang to my feet, wiped off the blood and mounted my bike, once again checking the wrong way and ending up in the rear again. However, I made up time and G-Spot ensured I was off in the lead behind BJ for the final Rambo split. Coming out of the shiggy I though a bit of OAP cheating was in order so I short cut to the ferry and was first across leaving the pack behind a queue of tourists shaking their fists at me and willing me to sink into the mire. And thence On In….Thank you Golden Balls and G-Spot for a memorable day out 🙂