The Weekly Hash Headlines from Newcastle Hash House Harriers

Alnwicky in the UK, May Weekend  -

Hares – Babe Magnet and Strait Jacket
Written  rather excitedly by Roving Real-Ale filled Reporter – Babe Magnet
Pictures unashamedly stolen from Facebook -
After months of meticulous planning (the majority of which took place at table 4 in the Bacchus in town), when I awoke on Friday morning there was a sense of anticipation in the air. A tactical annual leave day was well received, and I could feel the excitement building as I cooked and ate my bacon sandwiches, packed my bags and tested by newly purchased breathalyser (and recorded a safe to drive score for the only time that weekend. NB: Elf ‘N’ Safety Check: I did not drive at any point during the weekend; the breathalyser was purely for sensory purposes).
My 10 minute-warning text came and I was eagerly anticipating the arrival of the hash babes (I am the Babe Magnet after all…). These soon arrived in the form of Strait Jacket (behind the wheel) and Grasshopper, fresh from a half day at work. We crammed the bags into the back and began our pilgrimage up the A1. The car journey up was eventful and included some terrible jokes (mainly me), terrible accents (again, mainly me) and an agreed safety word for the weekend. We soon arrived in Alnwick and following some initial parking issues, safely decanted the hashers, hash kit, flour, rugby balls and most importantly, the travelling hash beers.
Being the keeno ultra-athletes that we are, SJ and I had volunteered to lay the Friday Night Red and Yellow Dress “Welcome to Northumberland” r*n. Walking past a recently opened keg of Tyneside Blonde and not supping at its majestic tit was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but I overcame my temptations, asics’d up (other brands available) and hit the road. SJ and I had recee’d the r*n a couple of weekends previously, so were anticipating a quick lay (yeah I went there…) before returning to welcome our guests from across the continent.
The first mile or so of the trail laying was somewhat uneventful, except for the extremely welcome return of a fully bowel-cancer screened NG (sporting a bright red wig and waving furiously through the window to her and Slippy’s B&B room). We meandered through the streets of Alnwick, flouring as we went. All was going well as we entered the car park to Alnwick Gardens and as we rounded the corner, the spectacular Alnwick Castle came into view. This was set to be one of the highlights of the weekend; a stunning 900 year old monument that has commanded the gaze of many a man for the best part of the last millennium. “What a great way to welcome our guests” we thought.
However, this is the hash, and things are not always as simple as they seem. As I laid a solemn directional arrow at the steps of the castle gate, a cavalry charge approached. Strait Jacket immediately scarpered downhill to safety and I was left to face the Duke of Northumberland’s full army - 10,000 men strong. One by one I fought them off; “For the hash!!!” my cry as I slayed soldier after solder. A more accurate account of this situation is that the Head of Castle Security came running out to question what we were doing on the Duke’s Private Land. Did we have written permission to be there? What was the white, anthrax looking powder we were laying down on his ground? After threats of calling the police and locking us up in their dungeon, we managed to back-track to a previous holding check and add a big loop onto the whole r*n. We even managed to pick up the Saturday On-Inn trail.
After what felt like hours, we finally made it back to the YHA. We were battered, bruised and in need of a good pint of beer (or a tot of Lindisfarne Mead in SJ’s case…), but there was no time for that. We wanted to give everyone a warm welcome, so after introducing ourselves to the pack, going over the markings and advising the wa*kers where the On Inn was, we poured out 50 shots of infamous “Alnwick Rum”. A quick toast, rum down the hatch and we were off; red and yellow dresses scattering across the streets of Alnwick and cries of “On On” could be heard all over Northumberland. Strategic FRB’s were placed behind walls, on tree stumps, in hidden alcoves and even in front of Police Stations, all of which made for excellent hash flashes.
Rum                                             Hurrah its the start of the weekend!                                                         To the Pub !
Hash Flash                                                                                             Classic hash pose ( masses of confusion )
There was some confusion when the Front R*ning Ba*tards picked up Saturday’s “BS” marking, and when I explained that there was no beer for them on trail I was greeted with some colourful language in response, but it was nothing I have not heard from my refereeing days. A slight uphill took the pack back into Alnwick Town Centre and the relieved cries of “On Inn” could be heard from the back. As we arrived at The Market Tavern, 50 sweaty and thirsty hashers in an assortment of red and yellow piled in and filled the bar, and a few pints were consumed (to say the least).
After a miniature crawl of Alnwick (not getting into The Tanners Arms but instead going to the John Bull just round the corner from the YHA), we headed back to the hostel for the circle at 10.30pm. Now I was fairly well watered at the stage, but from memory I can recall the following circle events:
·         GM Pop officially welcoming all hosts and guests to Alnwicky in the UK
·         Mary Poppins dressed as Miss Saigon
·         Welcoming returners Watsawrong (4 months in the Phillapines) and Strait Jacket (4 months in High Heaton) back to the hash
·         Celebrating Bella the Dog’s 50th r*n (who let the dog’s out?)
·         My rendition of “Thank you for the Morelay” by Shabba
·         Pimp’s emotional monologue about how I’m the son he never wanted
Following the circle, we continued to get to know our guests. My memory is a little hazy at the point, but I do recall losing my tankard, going to get a kebab at 1am, eating it on the walk home, struggling to get out of my extremely skin-tight rugby shirt before bed and returning to the room to hear Counterfit having a drunken, fully-asleep conversation with himself in some unknown language (maybe Maltese)? An excellent night to start the weekend off but plenty left in store for the following 36 hours…
Anyone wishing to relieve the evening can sing along below
Thank you for the morelay   - To the tune of “Thank you for the music” by Abba
I’m nothing special
In fact, I’m a bit of a hare
If I lay a trail
I’ll send you both here and there
But I have a talent
I’ll tell you in song
And everyone listens
When I shout “On On”
And while we have the time
All I want is to tell you in rhyme
So I say thank you for the morelay
The trail I’m laying
Thanks for all the beer
You’re paying
Who can hash without it?
I tell you with honesty
Won’t keep the pack in eyesight of me
So I say thank you for the morelay
From your hare who’s….Lazy
Parte 2 ( coming soon) The Rest of the weekend!



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