Elves and Fairies

Cerberus BillyBullshit Donut Hashgate Desperate Shitfor Zebedee Florence Posh Bomber HP NappyRash Whinge TC Iceman Spot Bumwiper and dog Ebony Lemming Mother Theresa Septic Dumper Butterfly Dribbler Ms Whiplash SkinnyDipper PennyPitstop Simple Skids Twanky Blowjob Snowballs Nutty Potty CrispyToasty Amanda Booby Slapper NoSole Spex LoudonTasteless Lungs C4 C5 Frankie BGB Motox Dunny RampantRabbit Swallow Slowsucker DuracellBunny Kate I-Plod MessengerBoy Bogbrush Fannybag Mrs Blobby Mr Blobby DragonLady Slippery Lilo Tinopener RandyMandy Caboose Derek Beaver

The BH³ Christmas Party

Approximately seventy Hashers swelled the Calcot Hotel car park. As far as I’m aware this was our first Christmas bash foray into temporary residential accommodation. Ebony, Bumwiper’s eager little black and white spaniel was so excited at the prospect that it gritted it’s teeth and deposited what Billy described as a Yuletide log on the car park paving. This object proved to be almost larger than the little creature herself. While Bumwiper attempted to heave the object into a specially strengthened plastic bag I mused on whether Ebony was a TARDIS dog.

This being our Christmas party a number of people had festooned themselves with festive attire. Frankie sported the most opulent Santa hat in a groovy dark red with a luxuriant fur trim. Quite how she wore it all the way round the Trail without sweating cobs is unknown. We On Outed. Most people the wrong way…

Up. That’s the way we went for the first part of this Trail. Up and up various lengths of tarmac until we gasped our way into blessed undergrowth. It was interesting the number of people who agreed that it didn’t seem very Christmas-like at the moment. Not surprising really. It’s been remarkably warm for the time of year. Bit like we were, having stamped our breathless way up those hills.

Lemming and I fell in behind Bumwiper who, for some reason, felt it necessary to mention that under her Christmas wear she had on suspenders, stockings, a black bra and knickers with little red bows. Curious what some Hashers reveal under physical duress. Lemming advised us that he hadn’t heard that kind of information before from a lady who wasn’t on the other end of a telephone line…

C5 drifted past in a haze of what appeared to be light snow. Snowballs fetched up with what appeared to be the worst case of dandruff shoulders I’ve ever encountered. Turned out that Lemming had been involved in earlier festal flouring. C5 got him back, though, and the little fellow scampered past wearing something like one of those old rubber white swimming caps. It seemed to be on the verge of perishing, though, and bits of it were peeling off, giving him a rather scabby look. No change there, then.

The most surprising, nay shocking, event of the day involved Zebedee. Perhaps he was eager to get to the party. Perhaps he just had an off day. But this runner par excellence ignored a False and cut off a large loop in the middle of the Trail! Now I know he’s a bank manager. They’re not flavour of the month. Well, year really. But our Zeb is the acme of anti-cupidity. The pinnacle of probity. So this time we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. I think he‘s lucky there’s already a Cheating or he’d have been renamed 

Poor Dunny did herself a mischief, racing down a track full of shiggy in the forest, when she caught her toe in a bramble and kneed a recumbent log. I felt quite sorry for the log. Not only had it been stripped bare of bark by an itinerant and somewhat feckless deer, leaving it skinned and naked, but some mad bint had just cracked it one in the fork with her patella. Before skidding over in a Macflurry of mud and badger poo. To add insult to injury Dunny sat her muddy bottom on the log while rubbing her leg. Luckily, the pain passed and she hobbled on bravely. However, as she pointed out, she wasn’t really going to be let into the party wearing her mud-encrusted running clothes. But she added quickly, “Luckily I brought a clean pair of knickers.” What was it with you girls on Sunday?

Just as it began to drizzle and get colder Slapper, Messenger Boy, Lemming and I came across (both literally and figuratively) the On Inn, streaming down those tarmac trails that we had panted up earlier. And so to…

The Party

Wow! This must be one of the best rooms we have been in. A bar, dance floor, spangly stage, beautifully laid tables with crisp, white linen tablecloths… and a couple of elves. Elf and Safety they called themselves. One was tall, beautiful and clumping about in orthopaedic boots. The other was perhaps not quite so good looking but also clumped about in large, green boots. Both had (very different) elfin clothes. Skids and Twanky looked after us, organised our games, played the music, marked the quiz (with Mr Blobby’s help), brought out the hotel staff for us to applaud. What didn’t they do?

Father Christmas put in a surprise appearance and handed out the Secret Santa presents (shame Motox couldn’t be there… ) with some rather interesting and in one case, quite beautiful items. Butterfly asked me to thank, on her behalf, the person who gave her the exceptionally pretty box.

The food was very good, the house wine was… different, my table was full of rough characters but I got through it, and CrispyToasty hit me on the ear with a paper plane. Don’t think we’ll get a better party this Christmas. Our grateful thanks to all involved in the organisation and planning.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA C5 presented the following :-

Simple

Up and Coming