Truro Hash House Harriers, Hash No. 938

The Rising Sun, Truro

Newsletter, written by Persil, typed (unwillingly) by By Pass

There is a (public) house in Truro they call the Rising Sun (I can’t believe I got talked into typing this drivel) and it’s been the ruin of many a hasher (it gets worse) and on Sunday I was just one of the 40 who turned up.

It was another bright Sunday (repetition) and all was set fair for a great hash.

We welcomed a regular visitor, Mary Poppins from Sydney and Hannah from Hanover, who both had the traditional greeting of a down down.

So far so good. But that was soon to change for your scribe: when the newsletter writer’s number was chosen, By Pass was very kindly let off but then she chose the next number to hers which not surprisingly was mine. Claimed she didn’t hear the number but I’m not so sure (what can I say, I was on drugs at the time).

The on on was behind the pub through some sneaky alleys and eventually on to Daubuz Moor where the promise of a dry hash was put to the test. Not for the first time poser was caught suffering from a senior moment in forgetting about the long stretch of cold water and the inevitable mud. (for those of us who were to go on the next week’s Trafalgar hash this was, in retrospect, a really dry hash).There were a few Tarzan antics when a swing was spotted to help us across the river. After emerging from the jungle we made our way to the familiar hashing territory (even more familiar the next week) around Kenwyn Church. Persil went the wrong way round the cemetery to a dead end (I have to live with this) and Heavy Breather was heard to remark that we were in the dead centre of Truro. On to the hash halt, where the sandwiches were eggsellent (no comment). We were overlooked by a group of angelic children in Sunday school and then a police van arrived but went straight past us ( I don’t know why because this newsletter is criminal).

A charlies run was offered but declined and so it was on back to the pub where we were given a warm welcome with a free buffet and down downs for only £1 a pint.

Marks for the run – 96 – Poser’s age? (this has nothing to do with me but could be construed as abuse of the GM)

Marks for the pub – 369

Down Downs

Hares – Bhindi (christened Hash Goddess by Latex who was trying to curry favour for the forthcoming elections) and Poser

Hap – for forgetting to drink her down down the night before at the Italian evening

Nickerless and Persil for serious running in marathons (and wearing ridiculously large medal – Persil)

Heavy Breather – SCB

Hooker – publicity – dog grooming

Tantrum – suggesting that we have an African evening in a hot room, with nothing to eat, Einstein SB to arrive and lob in a few food parcels – all for £5

Snow White – splashing (no change there then)

Don’t Blame Me – making Poser spill his beer

Richard the landlord – for making us so welcome

On On Persil (and By Pass)