Anyway, since I’m always at the back of the pack I don’t see much except the ground. Mostly I’m scared of falling over and being pointed at by one and all accusingly in the circle of doom and gloom for having a stained backside (as if I would poop my pants!). So I watch the ground closely. Grumblewald was right when he said that we should be careful because the ground is slippery in places – good advice in case you hadn’t noticed the rain lately.

Anyway, we (about 40 I guess) are all gathered for the usual briefing preceded by the ravings of the GM as he tries to organize us all into a circle. The audience of locals starts to build and one, obviously having heard rumours of the group’s activities (fetishes anyone?), ensured his dog was well protected with a huge medieval style collar of nails. Normal quick briefing and off we go up the road, around and around, up and up etc, checking here, checking there. Margaret (the tough lady carrying baby on her back) is advised to take a detour to avoid more slippery ground. Good advice because we slipped and slid our way down a particularly steep gully and I, not her, spent most of my downhill time on my backside (causing said stain).

Being at the back, as usual, I come across a few casualties – Keeled Over is looking really hurt sitting on a log with a pretty mean bunch of cuts on his leg, putting on a brave face – good Keeled. I know there was the odd check or two because, by the time I arrive, the pack is off and I’m being asked to step aside on one of those narrow pathways on the edge of a paddy field by one of the hashers who took a false trail. Some speedster, a Pom with a goatee beard (can’t remember anyone like that except the Scribe’s deputy – GM), is asking me to get out of the way ‘cause he wants to get past. Gosh, is it a race or perhaps I really am that slow!

Anyhow, we climb up this never-ending ascending trail – I actually overtake one guy who (I thought) was really fast (looks like an Indian – has this big lovable dog) and I reach the top eventually for a halt check – just great. I, like a number of others, admire the view – a valley within a valley – oooohhhhh, where’s the camera!!!! I have it on good authority that the walkers led by hare Viaggra, did stop to take a few pics – obviously the walk was just too easy, Peggy!! Anyway, off goes the pack while I’m still admiring the view because I have just learnt it is there. Grumblewald tells me where to take the trail home so that I don’t get lost (what, does he think I’m slow or something, or worse still, too senile to make it back following the trail?). So I took off down the big hill, following the trail, I pass a couple of sheilas walking. One of them encourages me by saying ‘well done’. What, does she think I can’t make it home on the trail or something?

Some of the walkers, caught in the runner’s downhill frenzy led by breakneck Shriveled, took to the trail rather than stick to the road, causing much anguish as they got in the way down the narrow trails and slowed some of the speedsters. The walkers were led astray by Geoff who got his comeuppance as he too became a bloody casualty. And who was it that suggested the walkers should try “skiing” down the slopes? Not a good look I must say – and more stained pants . . . at least not mine.

Anyway, I come across Margaret (didn’t I pass her?). She must have walked miles. As the finish is just over the rise, I streak away to finish the run before her. Actually it was only about 20 metres and I’m finished, but nobody was watching my grand effort, just a big bunch of kids who gaze at me as if I’m late or old or something. These are the same kids who were using Shriveled’s car as a bouncing castle. Good on ya, lads!

The Down Down is called for by the GM and the usual carryings on. See the pictures to see who got one. There is a fair casualty list – all fast b….s - with about five hashers with bandages, etc so the rain did reap its punishment. And the leeches are out there now . . . hungry and waiting for you. At least they chose the skinny poms for breakfast!

After the Down Down which was exceptionally vocal – are we going all “kulchard” and starting a Kathmandu opera appreciation society, GM? - the missus and I join the GM and a few others for drinks and dinner at the local Godavari resort. Very pleasant dinner, company and outlook and even the kids were well behaved, having just emptied the pool of water! I’m just leaving and then the GM orders, “Write up the run for the Hash Trash”. Now, I’m not one to grumble but … if I knew beforehand I might have actually paid more attention – and I have to admit I can’t recall any ‘stern instructions by the GM to UN security in the circle?’. Anyway, the lesson here is to either pay more attention to what the GM says in the circle (does anyone do this) or more likely, avoid dinner with the GM after a Hash run (anytime?), but you probably all knew that anyway . . .