The 179th (and 1st Robbie Burns) Hash was on
January 28th,2007

The South Downs loomed over the circle like some dark Scottish brae. Everybody knew we would be up there and we all knew it would be hard work. In just a couple of spots of sawdust we were up and then a couple more we were at the beer. Keeping to theme the hares had been quite parsimonious (tight) with the markings.

The hares had chosen to secrete the beer in some gorsey urinal. Kingfisher being just the latest to anoint the holy place. It did however provide some relief from the chilly breeze and eventually just about the whole pack was huddled there. Jobsworth uttered something unintelligible which could easily have been a Swahili fertility chant but it was assumed to be a Burns poem.

The route down for the runners looked about as steep as the north face of the Eiger, and it proved about as taxing on the ankles and knees. At the bottom was a fallen tree that everyone negotiated easily except Playaway who saw this as an insurmountable obstacle and retreated to his snowcave to await rescue. Luckily his thirst for beer overcame him and he found an alternate route.

As the clans reassembled in the pub Jobsworth brought out whiskey for the down-downs. Memorable miscreants were Playaway for not "touching the void" (his brain) and getting lost; 9 ½ for setting a vertical trail without supplying abseiling equipment, and lastly Queenfisher warmed Gaelic hearts by giving us two free hashes.