BMH3 Run report

Run 1555, This Seventh Day of Our Beer Drinking this January of Two Thousand and Thirteen
Location: Wat Bang Na Nok.
Hares: Jumpstart and Canal Rapee
Scribe: Scottish Bog

What a grand set of lungs she has, Samut Prakan Province, that is. Jumpstart, the hare, too may have perhaps according to some reports. The run was in this great well greened section of Maenam Chao Praya which bulges into the eastern territories of Greater Bangkok, Bang Na, flushing out much of those greenhouse gases returning much needed oxygen for our panting party of hashers. Although it didn’t do 4x2 much good who was the last to haul his weary timbers to the finish or ‘leading from the rear’ as Tinker, our substitute RA, pronounced such as an American can pronounce. 4x2 and rears, let’s not go into that.

Within easy reach of BTS Bang Na, the beer truck was already in place ‘Down by the River’ (Canal Rapee, Spinning Dwarf, who wrote that?) being blessed in the presence of Wat Bang Na Noi, set up and ready to rock and roll to the delight of those arriving early for the run. The dedicated efforts of Nibbles and her helpers are often overlooked but the time and effort and general enthusiasm for this relatively thankless task must be acknowledged as it is a prime contribution to maintaining our beer swilling antics.

Sharing the ferry boat with a herd of step throughs, our ride was kindly paid for, there and back, by the Hare. Getting Canal Rapee, her co hare, to explain in better English the route, Jumpstart proceeded to over talk him into silence. This he maintained throughout the run even when difficulties were encountered in finding ‘The Lost Trail’ at the end of the Red Brick Road when we entered into wide open spaces of Oz sized scale before the Sheep Shagger picked it up again. Jumpstart explained in broken English we were to be on paper and chalk also to mark the checks and false trails. So what happened some way along the trail when a heap of flour was encountered? Looked like a delivery to Mama’s Pizza Hut. No time for snacking en route though. On on. Mmmmm, but a small 8 inch Margarita with salami and olive topping would have been good.

This very pleasant area was both scenic and enjoyable to see how the other half live. Stepping off the ferry straight on to the locally built flood defence wall topped, like an artist’s impression of an extruded pizza, with cement and concrete making a wobbly start for a nervous Splat. Much of these elevated high ways ran parallel to concrete walls constructed to restrain Yinluck’s flood waters. What a soggy time of it these local residents must have during the monsoon.

Although most of the route was through plantation or park it was quite a jolting run as much was elevated concrete highways or tarred paths. Somehow the local planners thought that painting the tar green would enhance the environment but seemed more like someone had run amok after too much smoke.

Lots of checks came in clusters as if the lack of Canal Rapee’s short term memory had kicked in while setting them. Then there were none for a long time when his long term memory seemed to suffer a similar fate.

When the kampongs were penetrated one has to remark how the occupants seem to have taken on board the needs of lofty farang hashers as the usually low slung electric cables from beckoning corroded corrugated roofing were spectacularly absent. And was the Hare or Co Hare responsible for putting down the dosed food to contain rampant dogs? Or maybe that’s where the pizza flour came in.

Strange sights appeared in the twilight as only a black shirt grasping a flailing bamboo wafted about 3 feet above the ground along the trail (that’s about 90 centimetres for non-Imperialists). Twas but the Tickler with his lower and newly acquired facial camouflage completing his invisible act.

The checks and balances seemed to keep the pack fairly well together until lapses of memory kicked in spreading the pack into darkness as we arrived quite well spaced out…….was it that green road? Late arrivals Bullit and Ambrose came in well placed for a dishonourable mention.

Back over on the ferry with the illuminated spectacle of the chemical plant and flaring gas to Nibble’s beer truck and some yummy Thai and farang snacks.

After extensive social drinking, the ‘Oval’ was formed, English provincials don’t get excited this was not for a cricket match, to prevent losing hashers to the passing traffic as a circle would have encroached into their territory, unlike illegal resorts on forest lands who take little heed of others.

With the marked absence of all committee members Spinning Dwarf took on any role that he cared to as he spun round in circles eyes reddened and gleaming as a dervish’s might dusting down a few here and there thanking the Hare and Co Hare for what was generally agreed to be fun run despite the size of the Co Hare’s hat which he insisted on wearing in the Oval. Tinker then substituted for an absent RA and delivered an entertaining round of insults and breach of etiquette by bringing Spinning Dwarf into the oval for a down down. Mind you he should have been in again also for insisting on wearing his baseball cap throughout. What’s he hiding in there? Tom Waits eat you Mama’s heart out.

George of the Jungle and Bunnie were reprimanded for drinking too much beer. As Late arrivals they made no attempt to walk on water but encamped next the beer truck swilling ale. George of the Jungle indeed, deservedly being the outright winner of nominations for Prick of the Week, nay Weak. But there was strong opposition from Chocolate Starfish whose legs are too long.

Shiny Helmet was noted by his absence from the Oval. Probably he disappeared to check out his honey bunch, or could it have been his sugar. Sock it to you, bud.

To maintain equanimity, Sheepshagger, Splat, Nibbles, Bunnie and Short Shorts were rounded up into the Oval with a request for suggestions as to why this particular group were being down downed. It seems that they are all old ladies.

Siliwat Seafood provided a tasty end to the On On On for about half the hashers. Jumpstart’s mini sound blaster was sabotaged by Spinning Dwarf who immediately replaced her memory stick with his own Ikea flat pack stick and proceeded to play his personal selection of oldies but goldies testing once more Canal Rapee’s short term memory.

On On
Scottish Bog, previously Vagaboberalis
There’s only one tea in Scotland according to Tetley’s.

Bangkok Monday Hash House Harriers