Lightning strikes...
For me this will be forever known as the "Sods law" Hash.
Why?
Sods law # 1. Car normally reliable will not start on the morning of our flight. This is Taixdermist's car who is supposed to picking myself and Colapso up to take us to airport. Apparently battery flat. Should've pumped it up. Oh no that's tyres isn't it. Anyway, much desperate phones calls and dashing around later, using my car and Colapso's car, we eventually made it to Stansted.
Sod's law # 2. The Mojacar Hash GM, the Brigadier, lives part time in the Moorish village, which as you can imagine is built on a hill, being more easily defended against those bastard Christians. Now, Sod's Law no. 2 states that if you park a car on a hill in the evening it will not be there the next day. Yes, that's right. No car. Where the fuck is it? was the cry. Bengazy, who was staying with the Brig runs around village knocking on doors of other hashers saying that there was a teeny weeny problem of the transport kind and that it was quite important as myself, Taxi and the Brig were returning to England that morning and had to get to the airport. Anyway, it turns out that the car had reversed part of the way down a hill, but had come to a safe stop somewhere. The Spanish police, being very observant, even in the middle of the night, had noticed that this situation was not quite right somehow, and that perhaps they should take it somewhere flatter so that it doesn't do it again. (Damn clever these Spanish police, nearly as clever as British police who would have just clamped it I expect. "I arrest you, old banger, for reversing without a driver".) Anyway, it cost the Brig 50 euros to get it back out of the pound. We did make it to the airport.
Right, now what else happened. Oh yes, another Mojacar Hash was spawned. The Mojacar Playa Hash. This is a very exclusive Hash, even more exclusive than the first Mojacar Hash. This is because there will only ever be three full members of this Hash, which can also be called the Mojacar Triangle Hash. Like the Burmuda Triangle only we do not permanently disappear. Only temporarily, into some bar or other. The three members are as follows:- Alan Yate, Hash Handle 'Talking Bollocks', who is the whole pack; Mike Bartlett, Hash Handle 'Granny Grabber', who is the RA, and myself, Hash Handle 'Dumpster Diver', the GM.
Now, a lot of what makes this hash tick is the writing down of the time on pieces of paper in case we forget what time it is. (Tick!, geddit.) For example, "it's time for a beer", or "it's time for another beer" etc. Writing down "it's time to buy a watch" is not allowed as it's boring. Needless to say, the venue for this Hash will be on the beach, or some other connection with the beach or the sea. There couild be away runs. The rules allow any number of visitors, and they should supply the three members of the Hash with all the beer all the time. Oh, I forgot, there are no rules in hashing are there. Oh bollocks, the one about the beer stays.
OK, now back to the proper Mojacar Hash. Bengazy worked his bollocks off laying trails, and a special thanks to him. Harrietes trail was nice, being down hill all the way. As I am of the fat bastard persuasion, I don't like up hill. Only down. Normal behaviour of Hashers, getting pissed and falling over. Can't remember much detail except I got my wrist slapped for cuddling one of the waitresses where I shouldn't. Well I was sitting down and she was standing up. Anyway, lovely girl.
One disappointment was that our normal watering hole, Gordons bar, has changed hands to an English couple. The guy appears to have had a personality transplant. And it wasn't replaced with anything. Boring old git. However, his bird is nice, attractive and intelligent (What the fuck is she doing with him I ask myself.) He must have a big wang. However, as nice as she is, she could not cook a curry to save her life. I think she was trained in the boil in the bag Vesta curry school of cooking. No curry taste whatsover, and some of it was barely edible at all. Much moaning went on that evening, and it was decided not to frequent the establishment any more. However, my view is that its all right for a drink, but whoever next asks someone to cook a curry should find out first if they can bloody cook.
After this we frequented another bar called Mariela's. Run by a nice middle aged bloke called Alan who apparently was born in Peterborough. His wife, from Columbia, after whom the bar is named, is a dusky maiden who can cook. For example, prawn curry in coconut, mild but very tasty. We occasionally had breakfast there too.
Can't think of anything else to say.
On On.
Lightning (A.K.A. Dumpster Diver or Plonge de la Poubell (that's Franglaise, cos I can't do Spanglish).
The webmaster would like to point out that all the sppeeellling misteaks are original!(sick)