The skies opened up and poured and poured and poured. The RA had fallen down on the job again. The run was the usual shite — too flat, too brown, too dry, not enough Arks for two of each … Fortunately Running Commentary was able to alert the Hashers to impending sunshine in order to determine the proper timing of the circle. Had the circle been held in the 9th arrondissement, all would have been copacetic. Alas, the Hashers were several miles west.
The circle was graced by a number of newcomers, visitors, returnees, and muskrats who found time in their busy social calendars to attend. A complete listing made reservations easy. Had all those using the doodle URL had any idea what they were doing, it would have been a mah-velous idea. WTFAMT, Running Commentary, and Ooh La La evidently had difficulty with the new fangled technology.
FRAs were the Anarchist and Ooh La La. Enough said about the run. They were clearly bored with it themselves, all five of them. The treasure hunt was also apparently a resounding success with the underage set, who were endlessly entertained mucking around in the mud. Had it been July, they probably would have all enjoyed the festering, oozy fun of poison ivy too. And none of them got eaten by the muskrats, despite the nasty pointed teeth aimed in their direction.
The Walkers committed an epic fail. They started out legion (well, nine, anyway) and returned minus two. The visitors from Dayton, Ohio were misplaced along the return and not found again until the train ride home. This may have been deliberate – they made it to the beer stop and then disappeared. Fortunately our two American visitors, Short and Sassy and her husband, did not hold a grudge and invited all the Hashers to join them for a beer in their favorite bar, which served delicious cider and piping hot onion soup.
French Kiss and Anaconda did a superb job with the French beans. It is possible that the two walkers were misled in order to ensure that the rest of us got to eat their share. The yummy dish warmed the cockles of even the most cold-hearted Hasher. Feet however remained ice cold, and then the heavens threatened to open up again, the Hashers made tracks for the nearest train.