Another Lost Souls WriteUp
CHECKBACK RUN #1226
Saturday 30 December 2000
Hare: Ghengis   Co-Hare:  Huge-O 

"The End"

MUSINGS OF A KNACKERLESS BLONDE ON THE SATURDAY HASH

Well, I just couldn’t refuse could I! An invitation to join the hallowed inner circle, the "only" Hash in Bangkok. A chance to see my friends and get some exercise too. After all I had just come back from pedalling those high mountains; exercising the thighs really helps to give you a great ride - and there’s nothing I like better than a good ride. I was a bit disappointed when I arrived, though. Where were those fit strong men? Those rugged giants? Those handsome, revered athletes? The fittest looking crowd I could see was a bunch of trim young ladies (and of those, the ones who could buggered off as soon as the run was over!). I expect I just hit on an unusual run; perhaps all the shining Adonises were having a day off. Although, in retrospect, I did meet the charming Bullet; the distinguished one they call HARGS or AIGS or something like that; also the deceptively youthful-looking Paul Loke and that craggy but loveable teddy bear of a man, Max. And wonders never cease…………. Mini actually got there before the run started and had to join the pack! Perhaps, though, it was just a case of mis-timing; after all the traffic was very light on Saturday.

Nevertheless we did set off and we ran. Well, we ran of sorts. Richard Padmore found himself at the front of the pack on more than one occasion. So unused to that is he that as an FRB he was heard earnestly calling, "Are you?" to no one. Hags broke several checks. As I was just beginning to re-think my initial impression of age-induced incompetence and consider the fact that there may just have been a modicum of drive amongst the hallowed circle he let slip that he has set many runs in that area himself and knows the trails well. The Hare did a good job really; he stepped in at the last minute and for that we should all thank him. I think this is a thing that happens in Bangkok quite a lot; I understand that the Trailmaster writes down a load of dates and then puts names next to them. After that he falls back so exhausted that he doesn’t realise that some of the people won’t be in town, have left, don’t exist or have died. I used to run a system where I asked people when they could set a run before I put their names down. Funnily enough that used to get round the problem of people not being able to do their runs but who I am I to suggest changes to a system that must obviously be the right one as it has been practised since 1948. And I am only a woman. Blonde too.

Back at the run site a taxi screeched to a halt and Ed Rubbish fell out, fresh from a bar called "Alice Springs" where it soon became obvious he had consumed several bottles of some nameless alcoholic beverage. They say women are fickle, but somewhere in the back of my memory lurked a statement issued by this same person to the effect that "……….. (he) didn’t know that turning up at a hash and not running was an option". Also only recently this very same person set a hash cunningly designed to prevent short cutting and people getting to the beer without doing the whole run. It seems that the principle of "one rule for me and another for everyone else" is still alive and kicking.

The circle started……………. and then ended. It seemed to have a start and a finish and no middle, just a load of down downs. I missed the cheerful wit and repartee I am used to! Why didn’t these great men use the opportunity to demonstrate the comedy and humour their supposedly massive brains are capable of? Perhaps their cranial "humility cells" had been activated. I have heard that this does occasionally happen.

After the circle, the aforementioned ladies made their escape and a very strange thing happened. The curly-haired man leapt onto the bonnet of their car and began writhing about. I have heard that certain animals do this to rid themselves of lice and other skin parasites so maybe that is the explanation for this peculiar behaviour.

 

Food was served at the On-on-on. I think this is about the most notable thing that happened. I sat next to a nice thoughtful man; he let me talk to him a bit and the one they call "The Grand Master" was also very nice and gave me extra drinks. I am very grateful for these small shows of recognition and little acts of kindness, but I must remember never to take them for granted. The one they call the "Grand Master" played some music and I liked that. Otherwise the conversation was a bit boring. All of the men around me proceeded to engage in delusions; how they trick their wives, how many women they can handle at once, how clever they are at understanding politics and the usual old things like that. To the best of my knowledge this continued until the evening was over. It would be nice if they would talk about something different just once in a while. But there again I must remember I can’t have everything and I should be grateful for any intellectual crumb from their great tables.

Have a Happy New Year all you guys; keep running, keep smiling and watch those stomachs.
Love Knickerless xxxxxxxxxx a.k.a Twin Peaks

The Real Write-Up from (you guessed it) Baan Suan Restaurant, Bang Kruay follows:

The Preamble
Baan Suan Restaurant is always a good place for a preamble. You can sit down in the shade. There are plenty of tables and chairs. It’s an especially suitable venue for a Bangkok open run. There was a good turnout of ladies not just wives and girlfriends but harriettes in their own right. Looking around at the assembled company, it seemed likely that the harriettes would be the front runners today. But who is in charge? There were plenty of ex-GMs but no current hash officials. Who is going to shout On On? Someone suggested we just stay and drink beer but at 4.28pm Tiradej arrived, to raptuous applause, and pronounced On On.

The Main Event
Paper was found close to the restaurant and we set off on a leafy trail. I remarked how delightful these orchards are so close to Bangkok but Mini told me to wait a while for the rubbish tips. These were found at the first check but not of real Mini-style proportions. We proceeded through woods and orchards and into a moobaan with the checks keeping everyone quite close together. "Is it clockwise or anti-clockwise?" your not so hash worldly-wise scribe asked. In answer Le Pope indicated that he’d bet his history books on it being anti-clockwise. And so it was. After crossing the railway line, a back check was solved by Narest and we turned anti-clockwise.

Yes, your scribe was still running up front with the harriettes at that stage. In fact at one point with only one harriette close in front he shouted "Are You?" With the pack bearing down on him and telling him he was a front runner and he had to do his own checking and he’d just run past a check without even noticing it, your scribe was resigned to his forthcoming ignominy in the circle.

Out on to a road and then right turn on to another road, looking back SCB’s could clearly be seen declining to follow paper and going straight on. Suddenly, our trail went left into a very narrow alley just wide enough for motorbikes to go in single file, one after another. The fumes were bad but we were soon out into the woods again. The pack were still quite close together and joined forces to solve a check with several different options. One option was to cross the railway line but as we did so, someone heard a shout from way up the railway line and everyone set off up the track.

Except me for some reason, I spotted a path on the opposite side of the railway and decided it looked a more pleasant route than going up the railway track but as soon as the woods closed in on me I started asking myself why I was doing this. Why did I deliberately cut myself off from my friends? I didn’t even look for paper so I can’t tell you whether this check was too long or not but suddenly, to my surprise, I noticed paper. I solved the next check all by myself. I walked and ran about 10 minutes alone except for conversations with curious locals. Then I came out on to a road  just ahead of the pack. 

"I didn’t short cut, you long cut" I told them. The pack gradually overtook me and I arrived in my usual position, almost last, but with the usual satisfaction of following paper all the way. This time it was even better. I was the only one to follow paper all the way. That’s why I got lumbered (I mean chosen) to do the write-up!

Rituals, Victuals and Entertainment
So your scribe escaped his ignominy in the circle rituals and instead took a down-down as Genghis’s hero but in Mini’s music he was a "brown nose". Other recollected down-downs were for "pulchritude" and "ugly bastards" being respectively for the female and male visitors. Returnees gave their usual feeble excuses.

We adjourned to the restaurant for the victuals which as always satisfied the taste buds especially when washed down with plenty of Heineken. The entertainment was provided by Wah Wah Vichai on the harmonica (what other hidden talent have we on the hash?) and then the real music man strapped himself on to his accordian for a virtuoso performance. The GM also played the accompaniment for a few hash songs. It seemed appropriate that before people started leaving to watch football, or whatever, Bullet led us in singing the Hash anthem Swing Low Sweet Chariot for the last run of the year.