Run 1771, Fanling Cow Pat, 19 October



As the Observatory rainstorm warnings cycled through amber to red to black in the wake of Typhoon Blah the rain became biblical. Images of flooded streets, floating cars and roaring mountain cataracts engulfed the internet as Hong Kong braced for another typhoon later in the week, prompting a lesser hash from Sai Kung that runs on Saturdays to issue the Facebook proclamation “Whether or not Typhoon HAIMA hits HK on Friday/Saturday, HK will be hit by yet more heavy rain which will ruin the hash. Both GMs have accordingly agreed to POSTPONE Run No 120 by 1 week to 29 October.” In contrast, Luk Sup Gow reported on the Northern New Territories emails: “The hare, Eunuch, has just called to say that the hash is still on tonight, at the Cow Pat. It is not cancelled because of rain, unlike some lesser hash, and you will get wet. ‘It is flooded everywhere and it is f**king brilliant!’, where his exact words.”

The man responsible for all this, the RA Penile Dementia, responded with a truly unintelligible directive: “The hare, Eunuch, your should be cancelled because of  back rain, sign in on.” Academics have been asked to decypher.

And so five hashers – Dram, Catch Of The Day, Liberace, One Eyed Jack and G-Spot – assembled for the run. And the rain stopped. And the run was goodly with mud and steepness of Bird Hill and falling over and freshness and clean air and the smell of wet grass. And Golden Balls arrived late and set off, boosting the pack to six, exactly the same number as the Little Sai Wan, a bizarre sort of cross-harbour sodden symmetry unhinged by a soppy song.

The circle was short, the craic was long, the GM’s attempts to round up a quorum for an on-on quite rightly being shouted down. What’s not to like about crowding round an esky on a pavement drinking beer, especially when the long-striding Julian comes marching up, brolly furled, and asks if we’re the Fanling branch of the hash. Or when Pierre (let us call the Gallic rambler), on holiday in Hong Kong because Google told him October is a fine dry month, joins the rabble round the bucket.

Rain will ruin the hash … not!


Oh, and the weather on Saturday was gorgeous …

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