RHHH R*n 857 – An ode to Pissoles

Beer Supplier to RHHH away weekend
Who needs running, let alone hashing when you can eat Italian food all day?

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In a break with tradition from the previous year’s away weekend, Duchess at least had the grace to force feed the hash after the run and not beforehand. However, in compensation, he believed that a four course meal would only need 3 hours for digestion before being repeated in the evening.
Why this challenge, you ask? Easy, Saturday was the main event after Perpetch’s pathetically short and weedy warm up on the Friday evening. Padre, PHD and Keen Runner (as she is known in Facebook circles) had ensured that the appetite had well and truly been worked up with a bit of hill climbing and a few glorious km from Albenga to Alassio.
10h30 for 11h00 and the pack was under starter’s orders. Padre was very clear about the trail. There were no rules, except for the rules he created. Follow the flour. Check it out when you see a circle. Return to the check if you see a cross. And always stay on flour. What could possibly go wrong, Pissoles?
The run started simply enough, along the sea front and through the obligatory shiggy rather than along the road. This could not last, of course and after a wee while, the trail went up some steps. And up some more. And some more. At least it made for a good photo opportunity.

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Note the lack of running from the runners up the steps…..
It should be noted that at this point, Pissoles was remarkably well behaved, to the point of being invisible. His time would come later.
At the top of the steps, we found a cunning check with seemingly no obvious trail leading off it. This allowed the incredibly energetic Jack Rabbit time to check out all directions whilst the remainder of the pack did the decent thing – guard the check against thieves and take some more photos.
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Finally, Jack Rabbit was given some support and the pack found flour that had magically appeared since we last looked. This so surprised Deep Lunge, our visiting City Hashette, that she promptly made a slow motion fall for the benefit of her fellow hashers. She even had the scars to prove it at the end.
Fun over, the pack followed the trail along the contours until we met up with the walkers. It seemed that Gus, the famous ghost on the coast, was also being mischievous as the circles had all been marked out in the correct direction despite the runners sticking together. The intrepid pioneer FRB brigade decided to run ahead and see what dear Gus was up to. It turned out that it was a false sighting, as he was nowhere to be seen but co-hare Keen Runner had taken it upon herself to speed us to the beer stop and mark out the trail in advance.
From thereon in, it was downhill to a well earned beer stop by the local church. Wedgie was seen to enter for a quick chat with the Lord whilst the remaining hashers entered into the spirit with prosecco, beer, wine and lots of snacks….a bad idea given what was in store later. Jobsworth was overheard complaining that he only drinks after sundown. Happily, Deep Lunge obliged by reminding him that it was 7pm in Japan, so his dilemma was solved in an instant. Star of the day at the beer stop was Gus, making an apparition for the hash and wishing us well. Especially Pissoles.
Oh yes, Pissoles. Clearly he had enjoyed the beer stop too much as the second half was his. The trail wound down to Alassio and there was a very obvious regroup at a railway crossing with the barrier down for a trail to pass. So what did Pissoles do? He decided to play chicken with the train and run through the barrier in front of it (Ed – that’s a bit of an exaggeration, as the train did not arrive for a while, but it makes good print). From this moment on, he was never seen again.
The only rule of hashing is to follow trail. How hard can it be? We worried that Pissoles had hitched a lift on the train to Rome as we never saw him again, despite the circle lasting quite a while. So, in true hash tradition, we decided that he is a grown man and forgot about him.
The remainder of the second half was a jaunt around the historic centre of Alassio and ended in a childrens’ playground. Pity that Pedo was not there as he would have been in his element.
We waited for Pissoles for a long time and eventually decided to hold the circle in his name and, of course, nominate him as Shit of the Week in abstentia.
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Many thanks to the hares, pictured, for a great run. Having used up thousands of calories, it was time to destroy all the good work with rather a lot of food. And the promise of even more food just a few hours later that evening.
Postscript – Pissoles claimed that he lost the trail, kept running and running and eventually turned back when he reached the French border and was mistaken for a Syrian refugee. Likely story.


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