Volume 42, Issue 41 | January 29, 2023

RECEDING HARELINE

Run No.	Date	Hare Apparent	On On
2268	12 Feb	Hare required
2269	19 Feb	Eager	Five Mile Beach
2270	26 Feb	Hare required
2271	4 Mar	Hare required

UP AND CUMMING

29 February 2024 | Leap Year H3 Run 8 (as set by the Phantom Hasher!)
8-10 March 2024 | Interhash 2024, Queenstown, New Zealand
28-30 March 2025 | Aussie Nash Hash 2025, Fremantle

---

Great Expectations.

It was the title of one of the great novels of the 19th century and began with the line: “It was the beast of times, it was the wurst of times…”.

Written by East London butcher Darrel Chickens, Great Expectations was a tale of ambition, unrequited love, and the making of quality smallgoods. The book was later plagiarised by that literary hack, Charles Dickens, who couldn’t even be bothered to change the title.

(Not to be confused with Chickens’ other book – ‘A Tail and Two Titties’ – which started with the same line. Great butcher, but average writer.)

The day had been seasonably warm, and the prospect of a post-trail dip without your balls rapidly retracting and hitting the back of your throat was at the forefront of many a Hasher’s mind. Probably not Just Kidding, because, you know, ovaries. As we neared Claremont, kunyani was wearing a veil of purple and silver, and the temperature had dropped like a silent fart.

With parking nearby at a premium (not sure why a group of ‘athletes’ need to park within p!ssing distance of the venue) Hare Rigor Mortis made sure that there was enough room for Vyvyan and Sir Eve’s booze bus, although after watching Lord Limp’s attempts to reverse Vyvyan, the MCG would barely have been ‘enough room’.

Grate Expectations.

The Hare’s previous trails from this venue had all been suburban, taking in the streets of lower Claremont and on the other side of the great Brooker divide, so it was generally expected that this would offer more of the same. This was not to be the case! Rigor Mortis had turned her gaze west, toward the mountain, and thought ‘undulations – I’ll give them undulations!’

Warning of the pain that lay ahead in the first three kilometres, the Hare also offered a gentle stroll option for those who prefer their hills to be ‘of grace’.

Grade Expectations.

We set off toward’s the Hare’s brave new world, wary and resigned to the task ahead. Moo was less than committed, hopefully noting that there were plenty of less vertical alternatives that the Hare might have used. No, we continued our climb toward Mt Faulkner while counting down the kilometres. After about two kilometres of relatively gentle climbing, we reached base camp. To our right towered a newish sub-division, clinging to the steep hillside like dags off a sheep’s arse. Here we go…

On the road ahead were some of the mid-Pack runners, seemingly running around in circles looking for trail. It didn’t help that they had been running on the opposite side of the road and probably hadn’t seen trail for the past 500 metres. Eventually, Eve solved the riddle by following actual trail as it turned left, away from the expected ring-stretcher of a hill. Was it a double-bluff by the Hare, or did she just think that we’d gotten soft of late and the gentle climb would test our mettle?

Estate Expectations.

Having headed back toward the suburbs it was thought that we’d be pounding pavement for the rest of the trail. Cracker was quite short – “Where’s the bush?” she grumbled. Assuming that this was not a comment about personal grooming, Cracker had a point. This would soon be answered by the Hare, as we turned off the footpath, over a bushy knoll and along an undeveloped green belt. You could almost smell the eucalypt over the stench of dog shit from the nearby backyards.

Grape Expectations.

Having made good use of a chain of parklands, trail soon met the great Brooker divide and turned. Thoughts now shifted to the p!ss stop, with the Abbotsfield underpass being prime candidate as it fit Rigor Mortis‘ MO. So confident were the mid-Pack that they overran trail and circled aimlessly as TicToc verbalised the options, such as ‘I can’t find trail’, ‘I don’t know where I am’, and ‘It must be here somewhere’. It wasn’t – it was back there, so we regrouped and headed up a row of low-security pensioner units, quiet and seemingly devoid of life. The only bright spot was a van bearing a peeling sign that read ‘A tool for every occasion’, but this was probably advertising happenstance, rather than a cheeky statement of intent. The p!ss stop was located down the street from the on-on, being the maximum distance Rigor Mortis felt comfortable pushing a washing trolley filled with cocktails.

Late Expectations.

With Steady Eddie standing point like some extra on Dad’s Army, most of the Pack reassembled to partake in drinks that caused violent reactions on ingestion. (Not DNR though – she is cocktail ‘match fit’.) There were still some MIA. Thrill Seeker was a ‘given’, and no-one seemed to be overly-concerned. Not even underly-concerned. Incumming made it back, so trail obviously wasn’t that difficult to follow. This left Magic Touch and the younger Dick brothers – Big Mac and Quarter Pounder – unaccounted for. With an eye out for an approaching Uber, Sonar reported that he last saw the trio heading toward the city (not on trail, but that’s runners for you). Concerned that his mortgage repayments might suddenly triple, Bee’s Dick decided that he would set out to round them up.

This would be the last we saw of Bee’s Dick for the next hour. The trio of dips weren’t that far behind Thrill Seeker, a good effort considering the mighty athlete that Thrill Seeker is known to be. Mainly known by himself. On reflection, perhaps Bee’s Dick was optimistic trying to find them by retracing trail, given how little time they actually spend following it.

Well done Rigor Mortis – an enjoyable trail that gave us much more than we’d been expecting.

On! On!
Grizzly

---

SKOLS

• Rigor Mortis – Hare.
• Dishlicker, Wrectum and Incumming – can’t remembers.
• Prawn Star – no f*cking idea.
• In The Raw – still no f*cking idea.
• Magic Touch – I really should write these down.

• Incumming – no Uber opportunities. No, wait, that can’t be right.
• Bee’s Dick – ooh, I know this one!
• Grassroots – FRB jacket. Not sure what ‘FRB’ means at this stage.
• Can’t Stop – proclaimed by ITR to be NDIS President for life!
• Cracker – cheap laughs because she was the only one that wouldn’t have to duck under the garage awning to get a skol.
• Dishlicker – daughter will representing Australia at macrame, so now has to fork out for a trip to Barcelona.
• …and other skols I forgot to write down.

---

DATE: Saturday, 16th March 2024
START TIME: Run starts at 11:00 am.
It is a bus run. Bus will be parked on Marion Bay Road
(near Townsend Lane) above the main car park
at the Showgrounds.
VENUE: Bream Creek Showgrounds, Copping.
COST: $10.00 (includes sausages and some drinks).
HARES: H4 Hashers
Enquiries to Biddy (Big Legs) – 0417 331 441
You must comply with the Bream Creek Show Society’s Covid-19 Laws

---

HASH FLASH

Link to all photos for Run 2266

H5 MISMANAGEMENT 2023-24

Grand Master	Triple-K
Joint Masters	Growler Sonar	0412 161 017 0488 707 068
On Sec (poxy)	Grizzly	0419 960 561
Hash Cash	Dishlicker Mother of Pearl	0408 994 427
Hash Lips	Snack Bar TicToc
Hash Hops	Contessa Coupla Weeks Sir Eve
Trailmaster	Fringe Benefits
Hash Flash	Steptoe
Hash Horn	Fallen Madonna
Hashet Manager	Viagra	0419 504 105

---

Contact us at hobart.h5@gmail.com

Website https://hobarthash.tripod.com/h5/