Golden Jelly Jolly
If you’ve looked at this site over the last month you’ll have noticed no activity. Zilch. Not a sausage. This is because your internets man was gallivanting around Australia eating, drinking, flying in balloons, camping, farming, hiking and cycling in a desperate attempt to forget all about the hash – which I did, except for the three Aussie hashes I went on! Apologies for the radio silence. Normal service is now resumed, at least until the AGM on Guy Fawkes night, when there may be radical changes to the hash. Or not.
On my return from that crazy lazy land I found that the previous four runs had mainly gone off as planned;
1657: Luk Sup Gow / Kau Lung Hang / public holiday day run / 1 October
1658: Fartypants / Tai Po Market / 8 October
1659: Mango Groove / Ping Kong Village / 15 October
1660: 9 Ignorant Cox / Shui Long Wo / 22 October
Run 1661 was originally the orbit of Gaelle Says No, but he had to withdraw as he was on duty over the border. I asked around. Nobody knew anything. Further appeals from the likes of Serbian Bomber, Catch Of The Day, Inflatadate and Dingaling as to where the run is drew only coyness, fluttering eyelashes and abuse from Moonie. Finally, at 2.30 on run day it had to be admitted that there was actually no run and no back-up plan. So as Hare Raiser I told Golden Jelly to get her knickers on, make the tea and go and set a run somewhere.
Meanwhile Mango Groove decreed a Leafy Glade start because he never bothers with “boring emails” and didn’t know everybody had already been told Golden Jelly was on the case. I then instructed him to recall his email so it would be him that looks like a tit and not me.
At 4pm Golden Jelly had made a decision and the order went out: Lok Ma Chau Lookout. As I approached the turn-off for the start in a taxi, I told the taxi driver to follow the car in front, which had turned where I needed to go. “Hang about,” I thought, “that looks like the hare’s car.” Then the car stopped, the door opened and the hare’s unmistakably elegant hand appeared below the door to draw an arrow on the road! Not an auspicious sign.
By run time a coterie of hashers was milling around the pergola as the barefoot hare promised hills, vegetable fields, village alleys and a bit of shiggy where there was no trail because she’d run out of bog roll. “Just push on through,” she said,” and eventually you’ll get out without too many scratches.” At which Velcro Lips looked somewhat alarmed.
Liberace, Eunuch, Mango Groove, Catch Of The Day, Dingaling, Sam, Shamus O’Pressed (temporarily in town for some biodiversity work), Golden Balls and One Eyed Jack made up the rest of the pack. “If you see an On Home after the first check, don’t run through it!” said the hare. Which was exactly what Golden Balls did, following trail backwards and claiming he had a monstrous carbuncle on his back and couldn’t do anything hashlike. Velcro, meanwhile, did her own “trail”.
Everybody was back within the hour after heading straight up Crest Hill, along the ridge, down the hill (One Eyed Jack claiming he was “skiing” due to his crap footwear) down the road, around the veggie ponds where Gunpowder Plod fell in the shit last year (how we smiled at the memory), round the village and back home. Short-cutting was rife – Eunuch, Golden Balls and Shamus O’Pressed were all culpable to some degree – while at one point where GB was hiding so the others wouldn’t know he was short-cutting he was passed by a grim looking Liberace with an equally grim looking Eunuch in tow. Racing! he hissed, at which Eunuch tossed back a “short-cutter!” without so much as a backward glance.
Back at the finish a giant centipede had everybody fascinated until Shamus O’Pressed came on the scene. “These things are dead aggressive and can rear up to strike,” he proclaimed pompously before proceeding to harass the poor beast into striking at him like some demented David Attenborough. Actually, it’s little known, but the giant centipede sample at Kadoorie Farm was captured by Shamus O’Pressed and Golden Balls at Chi Ma Wan, at night, in 1997. I have nightmarish memories of chasing this repugnant beast up and down a hillside culvert trying to coax it into a plastic bag, armed only with a teaspoon.
The normal shapeless circle was held and we all went home happy. Thanks to Golden Jelly for averting a disaster.