Sometimes our capacity for being late astounds me! This time, due to the changing of the clocks, we had an extra hour to play with. We left our place in France at 9.30 giving us 31/2 hours to get to Barcelona for the hash at 1.00pm….needless to say we never made it and joined the pack as they were returning from a devious back check laid by the hare & cleverly designed I think with us in mind.
As is the norm with BH3 the pack was made of an ethnically diverse mix spanning at least 4 continents, luckily English was used as the common language, well if you include Scottish.
The trail was set by Durexcell and Veronique as a bon voyage as they are moving to France and are planning to get married and save the planet, I am not sure if the two are connected or which order they are in.
Once the initial enthusiasm of the pack had been quelled by some well laid false trails and back checks around some large Mediterranean gardens, the hash settled into three distinct groups: the pushchair friendly walking & talking social group, the I am going to run and sightsee but I will be dammed if I am going in the wrong direction from the beer for too long group and then there was the just stupid group who insisted in finding every no hope false trail, a skill requiring the mental discipline of being able to suspend your natural sense of direction. The end result was everybody ended up back at the start having the satisfaction of doing their bit.
The venue for the après drinks and food was kindly provided by the kiwi boys and Rufi at their vertigo inducing 13th floor penthouse apartment which afforded spectacular views across the city and surrounding hills. People had brought bits and pieces of food as diverse as the cultural mix from lentils to churros and everybody was enjoying themselves when horror of horrors it was discovered that we were fast running out of drink, so much so that a very dubious bottle of white Val de Penis that had been brought to so many past hashes it was in danger of being named and presented with its own T shirt was opened and consumed mixed with pink Lambrusco. Thankfully the hosts were not going to see the hash run dry and raided their own stash of booze and the near disaster was averted.
The Down Downs were a chaotic affair as usual with awards going to all and sundry for various offences/achievements most of which I have forgotten but included alleged virginity, applying used beer to Barcelona parkland, encouraging shortcutting on to a false trail and lying to the hare. There was as part of this general good natured banter not one but two naming ceremonies: the first was for Carri, when the pack was invited to give anecdotal evidence of past deeds good or bad and suggest a name based on the “facts”, the cheer meter used to decide the result. This in fact resulted in a tie between “any cock a do” and “Frankflirter”, (you can imagine the type of evidence that was presented) but in the runoff, good taste prevailed and a relieved Carri will now be known as Frankflirter. In the second naming, Veronique had a much easier ride and was eventually named “No batteries required” due to her romantic link to Durexcell.
In conclusion a very enjoyable visit to BH3, many thanks to He’s My Brother, Not My Lover & Rufi for being great hosts and to Durexcell and No Batteries Required for setting the hash. We wish them all the best in the future.
Doggy & Sprout.
