It was a tiny, collegial Hash (don’t ask me what number it was; who knows where my trusty Scribe notebook is). Oh, and before you ask, no, I didn’t send out Hash Trash from the 19 July Hash, because I was too busy working. Scary but true, so keep your ‘Sounds likes ...’ to yourselves. The details of that Hash are a bit fuzzy now, but I seem to remember that it was small, and held at the Oysterbay Shops. And the chapatis were awesome. And Arse Liquor will never again be allowed to be RA. That was epically bad, and the less details we remember, the better.

At any rate, the most recent Hash was hosted by Spitz n Swalloz at ye olde camp site, which she shares with Camp Bed, when he’s not off frolicking in the Udzungwa Mountains. Cat in the Hat was the running hare and set either a 1). fiendishly confusing trail that wasn’t as long as it was supposed to be or 2). a nice little jog through the peninsula, depending on who you ask. Horny Goat seemed to hold the first opinion, because she was heard raking Cat in the Hat over the coals a few times. Spitz pressed Alice (in Wonderland?) into service as the walking hare, as Spitz herself had to drive all over creation fetching food then looking for the site of the beer stop, which Cat in the Hat said was “at the intersection of Chole Road and the road that the yacht club is on”. Those of you who live in Dar will know that those roads actually run parallel to one another and never meet, hence the rolling beer stop that almost missed the thirsty group of Hashers.

Flatulence was pressed into service as the GM, as everyone else was on holiday or just being anti-social by not coming to the Hash, and Pleasure Center was the RA. Flatulence promised a short circle, but he started feeling his oats and getting into the spirit of things, and the damn circle went on for about as long as it always does. Did I mention it was a tiny Hash? (Yes, Tiny Sausage was there, too). About 19 intrepid Hashers showed up. Songs were sung (badly), jokes were made (poorly), and people were insulted (frequently). Two American virgins eventually pitched up, after running around the peninsula for 2 hours, looking for the Hash. They couldn’t find it because the location hadn’t been posted on the website. This led to Camp Bed being named Hashit in absentia for who knows why really (for those of you who know why, I would remind you that I am the Scribe this week, and what I say happened, happened. So there.). Close Encounters made a lovely Camp Bed stand-in, and modeled the Hashit gear for all of her admirers.

Next week’s Hash will be .... where, you ask? Yes, at Spitz n Swalloz and Camp Bed’s house, 898 Msasani, AGAIN. Why on earth is the Hash at the same spot 2 weeks in a row, you ask? Because none of you other slackers stepped up to the plate, that’s why. You’ll just have to deal with it, and any complaints will be met with a firm kick to the backside. Where was I? Oh yes, we drank more beer, sang more songs, and ended the circle with ‘Swing Low’, which one of the virgins actually knew, having hashed all over Asia, apparently.

ON ON!

-Spitz