…..and in the case of Padre’s backside, may never want to see again

By R.C. Lout

The RA has been on fine form recently, at least in terms of the weather. A glorious April Sunday greeted us in St Raphael, with promises of many swim spots. And many unexpected delights, this being brought to us by Iron Lady and Long & Hard.
But first, and far more importantly, let us take a moment to remember Coco, who sadly passed away this week.
Coco did something very important over the last 7 years. He stole Contessa’s heart and made her very, very happy. As can be seen above, he took to the spirit of the hash, even if it wasn’t his primary hobby. His warmth and kindness will be missed by all. I cannot say much to help Contessa at this difficult time, beyond being very glad that she joined us in St Raphael and hoping that we managed to make her feel a little happier for a few short hours. RIP Coco, thank you for everything you have given in your life and on the hash. You will be missed.
I’m sure that Coco would not want me to eulogise about him for the whole run report. Well, maybe he would but I must object and try to entertain him as well as you, dear reader, with my drivel. Thankfully, the start of the run was a little chaotic (Ed’s note – a little?). Levrette arrived just before start time, but thankfully still ahead of the RA, who arrived with 2 minutes to spare. Better than Cums Qwicker, mind, who arrived very late and ran the walkers’ trail to catch up. Fortunately, the beer stop was long, very long, meaning that she had ample chance to recover.
I put my donor card into the cash machine by mistake. It cost me an arm and a leg.
But, you ask, did we start on time? Well, no. Iron Lady had delayed the start to kindly clear the masses of dog poo from the grass on which we stood. This gave time for Farty Bum to position the beer car, but not to locate Mad Max and, more importantly, the beer car keys. More of this minor discretion later. Finally, the hares gave clear instructions and we were off. Runners were following flour, walkers were following flour. Runners might see white arrows, walkers to follow pink arrows.
Or was it the other way round? Oh, who cares, Levrette was sprinting away with Lonely quicker than you could say “where’s No Nuts?”
The first half meandered along the gorgeous rocky sea front, meaning that the pace was slow firstly to avoid twisting ankles and secondly to avoid accidentally running over some burning lobsters…
After an early falsie, it was along the rocks we meandered, safe in the knowledge that Iron Lady would take pity on us on such a hot day, especially with the promised bathing stops. Padre even had time to recount that Pilchard (sadly missing today) had been bragging about a 1 hour 15 minutes sex session at the end of March. He was very proud of his stamina, but finally admitted that it had started at 00h55am and finished at 2h10am….the morning the clocks went forward. Levrette was still not impressed with the reduced 15 minutes and enquired why men couldn’t take sex more as a speed trial. Women, there’s no pleasing them…..!
I just bought a new reversible jacket. I’ll let you know how it turns out!
Nocturnal sex antic of hashers over, the runners split, some following flour on the runners’ trail and others following identical blobs on the walkers’ trail. Fortunately, they merged together once more at a beautiful beach, where it was time to test the water. Now, it’s up to you to decide whether to choose visions of beauty or Padre:
Or this?
Ladies, control yourselves.
Thankfully, after all this (lack of) exertion, the beer stop was reached. But there was a problem. A big problem. Cast your mind back to the beginning of the report, dear reader. Farty Bum did not locate Mad Max before the start of the hash. Fortunately, he was at the beer stop, but she was a very, very late arrival at the beer stop (about 20 minutes by my reckoning), as she had delayed her start to leave with latecummer Cums Qwicker and not-in-the-best-of-health Spanish Fly. Fortunately, Mad Max tapes a set of keys to his wheel arch. Unfortunately, he could neither locate nor untape them. At least he managed to open the driver’s window to allow Long & Hard to squeeze in. Not, you understand, to open the boot (the key was needed for that) but for the added entertainment of setting off the car alarm.
My personal view is that Farty Bum was hiding around the corner and laughing, as she miraculously appeared just after this farce and produced the keys to liquid heaven. Still it allowed time for more swimming.
A nun who has a compulsion to streak has vowed to get out of the habit.
A leisurely beer stop wasn’t actually a problem, promised Iron Lady, as the restaurant did not want us to be early and the second half would be no longer than the first. We did not think that Iron Lady has a sadistic streak. But now we know that she does. The second half started as the first ended, with a seaside walk to another swim stop. But then it changed and perils awaited. The good news of leaving the coast and heading into the hills was that the runners could finally have a collective pee stop without irking the local bathers.
The scenery changed dramatically. It was beautiful; rural and hilly. Most of all, there were checks and no walkers’ marks to confuse us. But what the heck? We had run up and up and uphill to a quarry (240 metres of climb, as you are asking). But the last thing we expected to face was crocodiles. Croc-o-whats? Yes, crocodiles. We were admiring a quarry that was full of them. Look, here’s the warning sign for proof:
Fortunately, Lonely has just returned from Queensland, Australia, where his daughter was competing in the Commonwealth Games (congratulations on that, you much be very proud). As we all know, Australia is crocodile capital of the world (as well as the source of the dad jokes peppered in this run report, courtesy of Killadong). So we dispatched Lonely to wrestle each and every croc that got in our way and guarded the checks. Lonely survived in one piece. Just.
Croc wrestling over, we realised that nearly 80 minutes had passed since the beer stop (no, that’s not a Pilchard style romantic 80 minutes). Fortunately, it was downhill and on road back to the start. Jobsworth was the FRB, with Lonely catching him up after dusting off the crocs. Padre kept No Satz and Levrette happy somewhere behind us.
We thought that we would be very late compared to the walkers, but fortune was smiling on us and they arrived at the same time. A 13km run by my reckoning. A flat 4.5km first half and a vertiginous second. As already mentioned, Iron Lady has a good sense of sadism, sorry, humour.
To the circle. Given the long beer stop and the even longer second half, we were running late, but fortunately the resto was very flexible.
Hares – Iron Lady and Long & Hard. Thank you for a unique but excellent trail.
Best excuse for missing the hash in physical form – Coco. A moment’s silence was followed by a wonderful few words from Contessa about what he meant to her. Beautiful.
Anzacs (however loose the connection) – Iron Lady, Lonely, Don & Levrette (who thought that Anzacs are just biscuits).
St George – All the English. Too numerous to mention. Like a plague of cockroaches, according to the Anzacs.
Visitors – Heather, Don and Nicky.
Returners – Pullit, Francoise, Contessa, Lonely.
Birthdays – Farty Bum and Nicky (also Cumalot, who can celebrate his next time).
Mugless – No Satisfaction, Kums Qwicker, Mad Max.
Beer Car Antics – Farty Bum, Long & Hard and Mad Max (note – Farty Bum desperately pleaded with the RA not to make her shit of the week. He solemnly kept his promise).
Latecummer – Kums Qwicker. Or rather, Kums Very Slowly in this case.
Baby Hippo impression – Levrette.
Swimmers – Iron Lady, No Satz, Padre, Levrette, Don, Lonely, Heather.
Shit of the Week was cancelled by decree of the RA, much to the chagrin of Farty Bum who covets the honour. Fortunately, Contessa confirmed that Farty Bum has been absolutely wonderful over the last weeks, so she was instead awarded with the honour of “Saint of the Week”, administered by Contessa.
Circle over, it was time for much needed rehydration and food. Iron Lady had done a great job of keeping the restaurant entertained as we finished the circle, meaning that a relaxed and great time was had by all. Many thanks to the hares for a great hash in perfect summer weather in mid-April.
Finally, I hope that the report manages to do justice to Coco and put a smile on his face now that he has decided to leave us for the company of other departed hashers. We salute you.

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