Location: Wild Woman House, Santiburi Golf Course
Our latest hash starting time was set for 15.00h („winter“ schedule, haha), yet at 14.40 a line of limousines was already parked in front of our hosts’ home. No doubt a combination of their well-deserved reputation for hospitality and the refined setting both contributed to the high turnout. There was a palpable frisson of anticipation in the air.
Wirgin Bluce was kind enough to give a long and pedantic explanation of the ‘rules’ for the benefit of the virgins. Thank you, thank you. Finally the fog has lifted for many hashers.
There were indeed a number of unfamiliar faces, including some picturesque young specimens from our host country (daughters? girlfriends? so hard to tell) as well as some healthy competition for them from the Disunited States. Likewise it was good to see some old faces like Smoked Wiener who floated out of Bangkok on the floods plus Scotch on the Rocks and Sperm Bank who migrate from the north as the weather turns cold. Accompanying Sperm Bank were his missus, Missed Period and their three beautiful Powder Puffs who travelled all the way from Phaya Mengrai. Once Well Oiled and Oiled Well finally appeared, habitually twenty minutes late, everyone knew the moment to depart had arrived and, without further ado, the group headed out.
The new scribe did not wish his genuine journalistic interest to be misconstrued, so no contact was made and detailed fabrications regarding the virgins will have to wait until a later date. Nonetheless it is worth observing that Doesn't Work (alias Crash) enticed ‘Chompoo’ (this is a real name, not a hash name) to attend for the first time.
The excuse for our get-together, sorry, the Walk, did not disappoint. The landscape was charming, and thanks to crafty Wirgin Bluce’s numerous false trails we were able to admire all parts of it at least twice. The staff of the Santiburi had thoughtfully combed the path beforehand, so there was far less trash along the way than we are accustomed to, apart from the shredded paper that we ourselves deposited (and which is NOT biodegradable, so the trail is conveniently reuseable), and one eyesore of a house whose feckless inhabitants had omitted to remove the spare tyres and other detritus littering their yard before our passage through said yard.
At the beginning of the Walk, for reasons unkown, some hash-smokers, er, hash harriers, chose to walk along the ridges in the rice paddies rather than over the perfectly good path. From a distance the effect was akin to watching someone walk through a snake at the airport, but without there actually being a snake. The farmers tending to their fields did not pay any attention to this strange behaviour and continued with their tasks, either because they had been briefed by our hosts not to stare at the guests, or because they are accustomed to eccentric behaviour due to the proximity of the golf course.
About three quarters of the way, the trail divided into two routes the long one being 50% longer than the short way. The hare forwarned the group that only runners should attempt the long version. Gorf, Do It Yourself, Soreasses, Able Semen and Rubber plus his girlfriend Teng went for the challenge. One check which seemed to go forward with misleading bits of paper, actually required backtracking and that kept these FRBs searching for 15 minutes. Eventually this group found the way forward and arrived back just before the walkers. Unfortunately not everyone heeded the hare's advice. One walker, the Lost Samurai, lived up to his name, but not as much as his companion, Nok Easy whom he cunningly sent out ahead of him on kamikaze missions through prickly bonsai bushes. They eventually returned to home base 45 minutes after the others.
Finally back at base everyone was more than ready for the festivities to begin. A suspiciously high number of participants turned up only for the party. Nam Ron wins the prize for the most fantastical excuse. Apparently a cat hit his bicycle so he couldn’t make it for the Walk. Nonetheless all were made to feel welcome. Nothing was omitted, right down to lifejackets in order to prevent any unfortunate declines in membership numbers. And of course the swimming element provided the additional treat of seeing some of our fellow hashers, such as Hand Cock, in far more detail than we would have ever imagined. Nevertheless, everyone seemed to have a good appetite and the buffet was most popular thanks to the efforts of Wild Woman, Pat on the Back, Men Noie, Oiled Well and Thaitanic. A valiant attempt was made by Shocking to cover the costs of this extravaganza through the sale of t-shirts, but the results were inconclusive, possibly due to the current financial crisis. Or due to the t-shirts.
The business section of the gathering was soon done. On Fire was elected Hash Cash and Nam Ron eagerly assumed the task of Hash Beer. Comes Twice was congratulated on adding two more hashers to our community thanks the efficiency delivery of his wife Jolly Molly. No sooner than he had departed to rejoin his new loved ones, then the group promptly elected him Hash Scribe. Able Semen became Hash Trails and finally, but also least, Shocking was elected Grand Master after he complained that he had been serving in this capacity for ten months without election.
A wonderful time was had by one and all and a final piece of good news is that now that Wirgin Bluce has so much more time on his hands following his relinquishment of the hash scribbler job, he has expressed the wish to host the hashes every month until further notice. (Dream on! on!)
Comes Twice
Hash scribe
Nb: ‘any resemblance to real events or people is purely coincidental’
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