A HASH IN THREE ACTS

ACT ONE Being the famous Athens Hash House Harriers

Well, that’s two more hotels on Aegina we can’t go back to. Whether it’s because of Shiva bleeding all over the place or Shagfests’ "stage whispers" we’ll never know because we won’t be going back there.

The weekend started quietly enough with some thoughtful disorganisation: No Trail. And how would the Athens hash stage its hash with no trail? By doing a live one of course. But no flour. Ok we’ll just run the route then. Errr…no route either. Bugger this. We set off at a hearty jog around 6:30pm while walkers set off at a steady walk.

We ran up some streets and round a bit – finding our own falsies into people’s back yards. Eventually Parson’s Nose (yes, it was he) and S4S decided a hill looked promising and from this vantage point decided on a more direct route. Meanwhile Shiva and the others headed down to the rocky beach to go skinny dipping, which wasn’t a bad idea but sliding on the rocks and cutting your foot so the blood spurt out like a punctured can of Faxe after shaking it, and leaving a mess like a butcher’s slab on offal day, was. Some of this group (Shagfest – yes it was she) didn’t make it to the end of the hash as they were with Shiva checking out the local hospital’s sewing facilities. Among our returnees was Two Moons Rising who had dropped in by chance and preferred to be with us over spending the weekend sleeping on Dwarf Blower’s door step.

The run was followed by the first swim of the weekend and could then be followed by the first circle of the weekend as Pink Jenny had arrived with the beer. The only fly in the ointment, the grit in our Vaseline, the splinter on the banister we were sliding down was the fact that PJ had not bought ice or cooled the beer in any way.

"I asked if I should buy ice, but didn’t get an answer", she cried apologetically.

"We need cold beer", we replied angrily.

"You should have answered me then" she said stubbornly.

"Where can we get cold beer?", we asked hopefully.

"Maybe a kiosk" Parson’s Nose added suggestively.

And then just as we were running out of adverbs Fat Controller said (triumphally), "It’s not cold but it’s drinkable"

By this time PJ was lost in thought – it was unfamiliar territory.

Anyway one beneficiary beer being warm was Sam who repeated his habitual, "It’s a fair cop" when called out for a spurious down down. And so a "Fair Cop" he was named. This was subject to linguistic twists and became Fer’Cop and then F’kup as the weekend wore on.

After some beers the taverna beckoned and there we met the recidivist non-runners and Island residents, thus numbering 26 in all. A splendid meal including many splendid beers and wines followed. It was decided that as our veteran hasher FU Gasper was to be married in the morning (ding dong the bells are going to chime…) we should give him a stag night to remember but unfortunately I don’t remember anything about it. One brain cell persists with some recollection of finding Shiva hobbling her way through the back streets of Aegina in her socks refusing to let the evening end and coming home but not finding her way; limping off into the dark shadowy streets.

ACT TWO The cast awakes

Scene: Tis the day of the full moon and nothing stirs…

Time for a swim. Back to the town beach for a leisurely dip in the clear waters of the bay. Except for Pink Jenny who had forgotten her cossie and wanted to go somewhere quieter so her underwear-clad body would not be photographed and loaded for the world to see on our web site. A free morning then to recover although some gathered for a lunch of octopus and wine. Life’s like that sometimes.

Transport was achieved by overloading the cars to get us to Playboy 2’s house – the resurrected RA of the Twin Cheeks Moonshine Hash House Harriers. After gathering in numbers we set off on a long hilly trail. Along tracks and paths, up and down falsies all with great views over to Moni Island and Agistri. Up and up we went. Along and along went the walkers. Lovely views and very peaceful (yell ‘On On’ if you love peace and quiet!). Eventually after much wailing and gritting of teeth we reached the beer stop. What a relief. Eventually through the bushes came Tortoise; carrying his dog so the hunters wouldn’t shoot it. Unfortunately his sisters were nowhere to be seen. Abandoned on the hillside. He had been spotted tying a water bottle to the dogs tail to save him the effort of carrying it – an offence for which he was punished not in the circle (for Hamish it seems disapproves of down downs) but next day at the PASH HASH. There was one down down at what passed as a circle afterwards; for Juices Flowing who turned up to hash unaccountably with her shorts inside out. New fashion, perhaps. Londoners, eh?

Thence followed the Hash wedding of Dwarf Blower and FU Gasper. They both looked lovely in their sweaty shorts and hash tees. Garlanded with special hash wedding head gear. Playboy2 re-took the reins of RA to re-live his former glories and managed a wedding service a million miles from Cranmer’s Authorised Book of Solemn Ceremonies. At one point the couple were kneeling but FUGasper seemed to be practicing his crapping posture. Anyway, many a tear was to be seen rolling down the cheeks of the crowd. Such a lovely coulple, aaahhhhh.

No more down downs were allowed (Oh, that’s right, we did the hares, err.. Self Service was it? and err…Oh yeah, Parson’s Nose and Kumkwik.) On In to the serious eating and drinking and Hamish’s buffet was rapidly consumed. I’d like to make some comment here about how the yoghurt we were served showed that Australians did at least have some culture, but since we didn’t have yoghurt I can’t say that, can I?

Either before or during the meal Dwarf Blower paired us all up into threes and we did her truth or lies quiz thing. Think Shiva/Shaggie won (see separate results sheet). Post prandial prancing followed, the exuberance of some dancers had to be seen to be believed. At some stage in the evening some young people joined us to celebrate a birthday. They had nowhere else to go. Very sad. Anyway after giving us some cake they had to ‘dash off’ to go nowhere. Somehow we all got home and were summoned up onto Shagfest’s balcony for a ‘nightcap’. Apparently her neighbours in the hotel had already complained about the noise so she was whispering but unfortunately had no volume control. Her neighbour re-appeared angrily, and shouted something along the lines of, "Noisy foreign bastards. Why don’t you fuck off to your own country?" Not realising that we had Greeks in our midst. The management was called hastily, and tried to put us to bed hurriedly (found some more adverbs, then). We wanted to use the garden set back a few metres but he refused flatly. We then gave up begrudgingly and decided sleep was the better part of valour.

++++++++++

ACT THREE Passionate Hash, Passionate People

Again a masterpiece of transportational logistics found us at the bar brightly (oh not again).

The bar had erected a fine banner saying, "Preston and Athens Sam Smiths Shaggers Hash House Harriers - Cross Eyed Seagull Welcomes You". Rarely can a hash have had such a welcome on only its second run.

The GM (and everything else) of this fledgling hash Preston Pete (Aliarse) had decided to run a live trail and so he did. The trick, the surprise was to be that the hash would include a ferry to nearby Moni Island and continue there. During the boat passage PP would of course be granted immunity from being de-bagged. Part of the trick was also that we thought the boat may not carry us over if he saw we were taking our own beer, so we had to smuggle gallons of beer, ice and water across in bags.

All went well and even the walkers made it, lazily to the ferry.

A short run on the island side past wildlife and nudists, another quick swim and then we were ready for our circle. Unlike the first PASH HASH circle this one did not involve taking in eight pubs and trying every possible beer. The PASH HASH does allow down downs and so a number of miscreants from the previous day were brought forward. Including Shaggy Dog – losing the hash, Tortoise – Tying a water bottle to his dog’s tail. The suggestion to tie one (a full one) to his willy was vetoed by his mother. Fat Controller gave a Dr Dolittle impression that would have been convincing if we had shut our ears and looked the other way.

A wedding:

Yes the first couple to be married on a PASH HASH were two of its founder members, fittingly. Playboy2 and Flutterby took their seats willingly as Stand-In RA S4S officiated, warmly. The happy couple took their vows solemnly but when the RA spoke the words "Let anyone who has any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy mattress moaning speak now or forever hold their piece" all hell broke loose. "She was promised to me", "He got me pregnant", They’re already married", and on and on went the objections; needing to be overruled promptly. The happy couple drank their beers thirstily and went of to the woods (lustily) to see if it is just as good now its official.

We had a song (?) from Fat Controller (he sings like he snores) and a few other down downs that I can’t quite remember, and then as the boats were coming to take us away (ha ha!) we celebrated the 50^th birthday of the GM. No birthday is complete without a cake and so one was made – on Preston’s head. A cake tin was produced, followed by flour, eggs, beer, icing sugar. All mixed thoroughly on his head. Finally when it was ready we lit a candle and placed it in the middle, there wasn’t room for 50 of them. Singing ‘hashy birthday, fuck you…’ we gave him a day to remember.

On on then, to the waiting boats to take us back to Perdika and the Seagull.

The proprietors seemed to adopt the policy of keeping the food back late so we would drink more (you can’t pull the sheep over my eyes). And we didn’t disappoint them. Gallons of beer, wine and stuff was supped in true and growing PASH HASH tradition. In the wait for solids we resumed an impromptu circle – led mostly by Parson’s Nose, who used to be as sharp as a button, told stories and gave down downs none of which I can remember even though I am thinking inside my head.

Don’t remember much more except rushing to get the five o’clock ferry but maybe the photo’s will remind me of more things that should be writ when they come through. Don’t know how anybody else got home.

Another stunning weekend and one in which the Athens HHH took a back seat for part of the proceedings. Preston Pete promises another PASH HASH over the winter or something, and the full moon threatens in mid-October. We might just have recovered by then (hopefully).

ON ON

Strawberry Foreskin