YH3 Run No 1218 and RTHFMH3 Run No 73
The Engine, Hunslet, 13th February 2006
Hare – Rambo
Scribe – Jake the Peg
Cuckoos squawked a strident early evening song as a few ragged survivors of the previous day’s Black Pudding Red Dress piss-up limped their way towards Hunslet for some more punishment. Not only was this our Valentine’s run, it also coincided with the full moon. The omens and planets predicted wonderful things. In practice, the only immediately apparent supernatural (i.e. unnatural) happenings were that the pack totalled 13 and that the directions caused many people to get lost on the way to the boozer (yes, you’ve guessed it, our GM included).
We really were a particularly dirty dozen – twelve seasoned regulars, plus a Yorkshire virgin – Soggy Drawers who, after just one run on the Continent, had got herself christened and (silly mare) had the temerity to seek out YH3 for another dose here in the UK.
Eventually, we gathered outside for the off. Wet Patch caressed her two stuffed hares (three if you include Rambo); Gobbler clutched his statsman clipboard; Annie Berlin shivered inside her usual twelve coats; Evers, Flossie and Lick it Up sported their polecat finery; Soggy Drawers put her best bits forward; Wheels was dressed in his best cycling kit; Bigfoot, Grope and Black Widow festooned themselves with stick-on hearts and silly balloons. I opted for boring, normal hash garb, having spent most of Sunday prancing around in a red dress and (consequently) having no immediate urge to indulge my feminine side (for a few hours, at least …).
So, what do you get for a trail in Hunslet on a dark Winter’s night? No surprises really – underpass, scabby estate, dodgy ginnel, motorway footbridge, another scabby estate, gang of jeering yobbos, industrial estate, trading estate, wasteland by motorway, another motorway bridge, Victorian terraces and … Sanctuary! … a beer stop at the Blooming Rose! YH3 hasn’t been here since 2LLs was a regular trail layer some twelve to fifteen years since. In that time the hand-pulled Tetley’s has been replaced by frothy, cooled chemical shite and Keith Richards has left the Rolling Stones to serve behind the bar. A welcome stop, nonetheless. FD (in her Full Moon GM guise) was spurred into action and ensured that a tasty mixture of Guinness and pickled egg was forced down Rambo’s gullet as a reward for his erudite trail laying.
On the hare’s instruction, we short cut the last part of the trail and jogged straight home. Shed loads of sarnies and chips appeared from nowhere. Pity there was only 13 of us – we just had to scoff the lot. Wheels launched into the raffle before the down-downs. Highlights included a bagful of Valentine’s tat and a bottle of dodgy Lindisfarne mead (or suchlike).
On to the business of the night. Rambo thought he had had his fill. FD had other ideas. In the event the Blooming Rose was but a warm up as two more down-downs were summarily thrust into his hand – one for laying the YH3 trail and a proper raw egg/Guinness mix for being a full moon virgin trail layer. This is, I think, the only time in YH3 history when a hare has got three down-downs for being, well, errrr …, the hare! Other misdemeanours comprised:
• Soggy Drawers – virgin – both YH3 and Full Moon;
• Lick it Up – for getting lost;
• Wheels – birthday and for aiding/abetting Lick it Up in her anti-navigation.
• Wet Patch – for romantic hares!
• Ever Ready and Flossie – love birds;
• Landlady – for excellent grub.
A good evening jaunt with a very hospitable On Inn. Let’s have a few more of you buggers out here the next time we’re booked in for a run!
On On!
Jake.
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