Hot sunny day, semi naked people on the beach, convivial group of like minded pervs. and another shitty day in Paradise.
I notice the general economy has much improved as all, apart from one lady, were able to afford the second part of their Bikini. This fact was verified by both The Pilchard and Pimple. They assured me their research was most thorough and they had walked up and down viewing the beach contents a few times (Shurley they should be running? Ed.)before collaborating on the results of their research.
Their thesis is now undergoing Peer revue before publication.( Never mind that, what about the photographs? Ed.)
A Busted Flush ?
A King, Two Queens, Two Knaves and a pack.
All will be revealed if you have nothing better to do and read until the end.
Dirty Dingus did the dirty on his house guest and brought him along to meet some of his friends, look at the scenery, and some gentle exercise, with a beer, or two, as a by product.
I do not think he was aware that Dirty Dingus’ idea of “Gentle,” exercise is a marathon and real exercise does not start until after that distance.
However, some of you may have read the following which was written by him soon after the event, not like this tardy offering, somewhat late.
An interesting fact……… well maybe interesting………I heard Padre explaining why we had aliases and that people could come to a Hash with their alias and relax without anybody knowing anything about them. You can not be too careful in this era of multi source electronic snooping.
Therefore, I was not too surprise to receive the following………..
A very well written, walkers report, by a virgin, posting on an obscure site, (so I have been told.) which arrived here by way of a Hasher in Manchester posting it, then being seen by Run 2 Eat, in Scotland, who forwarded it to Phd. in Ireland who then posted it on the Riviera Facebook page. Just goes to show you can not be too careful. Mosad and the K.G.B regularly monitor these sites, so I have been told by a member of the S.A.S. who runs with a hash. But I suppose it could all be bullshit and S.A.S. is his Hash name.
As there was going to be a picnic after the run there was not the usual pressure to get the run started on time to get to the restaurant before closing, which was driving our”Anal Retentive, Padre, mad.
He said, “Just wait until later when you realise just how hot it becomes in the bay. He explained that the bay is surrounded by hills and the hot air is trapped. Well I assume he knew what he was talking about as he lived just below the fort on the top of the hill for nearly five years, where they grew bananas in the sheltered section of the garden. Before we started Padre told Steve we would probably be going to the fort. He said that would be wonderful as it looked very interesting. That was until it was pointed out that the fort he was looking at was not the one we would, in all likelihood, be visiting. He was looking at the fortification known as De La Darse but he was guided to the one at he top of the hill Fort Mont Alban. He did not seem too perturbed as he thought Padre was not at all serious.
One fortification at sea level to the far left, and the other at the top of the hill above the three canoists.
Eventually, somebody said, “How about starting?” And, with Perpetual Motions military command of, “Off you go then, all,” with the alacrity of a “Slumber,” of Sloths, we ambled out of the car park led by the new supper fit Cumalot, and Dirty Dingus.
They remained in the lead until the first sneaky check.
As we approach the rear of the train station a few extra sloths, from the Ladies Walking Brigade were waiting as they had seen sprinklings of flour and decided against walking the half km to the start and then return again.
We also bumped into The Vicar and Flying Chicken scurrying , hurriedly, going in the opposite direction, towards the official start point.
A quick turn around and The Vicar is with the runners and Flying Chicken is with the L.W.B.
The runners discovered the walkers trail and pointed them in the right direction and continued to look for the running trail, whilst the walkers ambled away, ominously, in an upward direction.
The trail now went toward the centre of town, along the contour, without any hint of up, which was worrying as we would soon be at the end of the bay.
Why worry? The next three or four checks were quite easily solved as we headed up. (Who in their right mind is going to check down on the side of that step hill? Ed.) Then it was remembered that Perpetual Motion ran around the village in an extremely fetching Tutu all those years ago and was not going to take the risk of anybody recognising him. (Anybody have any photos? I know they exist somewhere. Ed.)
Next check and the only way is down and Rambling Rose, a visitor, says she is pleased all that, “up,” is over. I told her to make the most of it as the next bit was sure to be more up.
Up it was, followed by more up. and yet more up.
But not this much !
The Vicar wished he had been a little later and he could have waited, on the beach, for us to return.
Pimple kept asking Padre which was the correct way given his intimate knowledge of the area. He said he did not know but keep heading for the Fort as the sadistic hares were sure to take us there and it was the only logical place for a beer stop.
As we ascend the last rise before the Moyenne Corniche we meet up with the walkers and together we pass the tradesman’s entrance to Villa Leopolda.
Padre was explaining this to Virgin Steve but I could see he did not believe what he was being told, so just for him……….
(What makes you think he will read this rubbish? Ed.)
The Moyenne Corniche.
From here a gentle downward slope until we reach a the main junction, crossroads.
A bit of scrambling around and Padre remembers the little path up to the Fort and the prime dogging area in Nice.
Pimple thinks he is hallucinating through lack of water and says he will soon have to drink his own Urine. Pilchard told him to hang on because the Beer Stop is nearby and Pimple says what’s the difference as it all tastes like piss anyway.
For those of you that missed it last time here is the celebration of Dogging.
I have never seen the pack stick so close together as the pack ran in and out of the miriad of pathways surrounding, The Queen’s house. i.e. Sir John’s summer place. Even Dirty Dingus was waiting for us thinking there was safety in numbers.
Which reminds me of an unsettling, recent experience………..
After my recent Prostate Exam, which was one of the most thorough examinations I’ve ever had, the Doctor left and the nurse came in.
As she shut the door, she asked me a question I didn’t want to hear…..She said…
“Who was that guy?”
a gentle amble, down the slope, to the beer stop at the end of the road, as we join all the French families picnicking away from all the tourists on the beach.
Beer stop finished and the walkers sent on their way leaving the runners to indulge in another beer before they to leave but in the opposite direction which means we go around the backside of Elton’s house, if you know what I mean. A big loop and we are back onto the walkers trail and a gentle -ish run down to sea level and a km or two run in.
Dirty Dingus clocked it at 11.5km and I had to explain to The Vicar that just because last summer he ran a similar distance, he was just unlucky and that we do not normally run that far.
If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would’ve put them on my knees.
Apparently three out of four people make up 75% of our population.
Down Downs; (I was not expecting to have to write this rubbish and I did not take any notes, so I can not remember them all. Those I can are below.)
2 Knaves; The Hares Cums Quicker and Perpetual Motion.
New Hasher moved to Nice; Rambling Rose.
Queen of the Hash, (Brian May) Padre for something but I do not know what.
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