Run 2515 – Botak @ Empire Avenue Reserve

Monday the ninth of April – a night to remember! Botak, and his ex-Vanuatu Hash mate Dick Cargo, set us a run in the hilliest, most mountainous of Perth suburbs (unless you include where the hillbillies come from). Wembley Downs, noted for housing some of those athletes who came to the Commonwealth games when they were held in Perth, provided an excellent venue for demonstrating our athletic prowess. After welcoming a few returnees and visitors, and also the West Coast Hash boys who were running with us, we set off through the leafy streets of this serene suburb. Many of us, myself included, were completely spent by the top of the first hill. No sympathy from Botak though. Five kilometers into the run the trail was still heading outwards. Eventually the end appeared, but only after I had run (well, partly run)  7.6 kilometers.

The bucket was more convivial than usual, possibly due to the high number of returnees, including Tank and Fingers, and the presence of our younger brethren from the other Hash. Bushranger treated us to a tour of his new BMW  X5, which had every gizmo conceivable. The car was so pristine and shiny that I am surprised that Bushy allows it out on the streets, especially on a Hash night. Birthday boys were Shaken, who brought along a carton of Elsie beer (I once had an Aunty called Elsie) and JJJ who did not bring along a carton as he found the instructions for providing it to be too complicated. Scumbag treated us to some entertainment by smashing a glass bottle on the ground in front of the wagon, and a collective down-down was laid on for all the runners of English origin. Quite a number, except for the notable absence of Scummy who was too embarrassed to appear in front of the gathering – always was a shy, retiring fellow was Scummy.

The run was very well received and was followed by some generously topped pizzas – not the thin cardboard type with a smear  of tomato paste across the top. Well done Botak – we look forward to your next run

OnOn

Antman

Pembo turns it on or Phantom M.I.A. Pack panics

Pembo turns it on

 

or

 

Phantom M. I . A Pack panics

 

 

A lovely warm autumn day  as I drove up ,caught up with my wife at the home then swung over to Willetton for my first Laksa run, Crayfish has been talking of this and giving top marks so I thought it was ideal to see the boys and enjoy a run with them. When I arrived at the car park they were wandering around with worried looks on their faces, what's up I said ,well the wagons missing and so is Phantom and we are not sure what to do he always gets things organised, personally I though the wagon was more important but kept this to myself. There must be a shortage of co hares as Pembo had selected Elbows.

 

All the old faces were there and I was flat out meeting and greeting, Barefoot must have gone via an aged care centre as he brought some old derelicts along to enjoy the  night , how thoughtful of him. Antman arrived with his crew and the pack built up still no sign of the wagon but its time to go. Trail marked with permanent paint so we use it again, a good energy saving measure, runners this way, walkers well two ways I went the wrong way and never really caught up. I'm with Colonel and his dog [no kids in sight] Mark 1 decided after 300 metres that was enough and turned for home, we battled on manfully keeping the walkers in sight but never catching them, the trail was well marked in fluorescent paint [green] and dodged in and out, a solid pace showed how unfit  I was the runners were behind us as we ducked down a pathway between houses. THEN a large fat lady came out and told us in no uncertain terms  to keep the noise down,this irritated Mole who gave her a big ON On whereupon she said  “I hope your arse blows up” to which Mole replied “ If it looked like you I hope it does” speeding up in case the husband came out, then thinking no chance she's got one ,we hit a park littered with dogs, Colonel gives the dog its head and there were so many bums to choose from it didn't know which one to sniff.

 

Still behind but at Pembos its a drink stop being late we got the dregs, Mrs Pembo handled the mob gracefully and we are off ,its nearing the hour not home yet, Rusty Nuts draws level and gives me the guff on the gossip then its home. A quick ice cold beer settled things down although Rumpole still looked a bit worried ,Elbows is dishing the drinks in a professional fashion I pointed out to Rumpole that as the wagon was late nobody got a drink before the run a cash saving measure, this cheered him up. All too soon its circle Horse takes control [well sort of] bellows out some general business , Emu takes over and the pack cop it including me as the oldest runner as this Sunday I am 81. Later that night I realised how unfit I am when I went to sit down.

 

Anyhow the queue forms in front of me was a lady in a bright green top , sari and a bandana obviously a local caught up by mistake no its Bushie letting his inner child out.We sit down Pembo dishes out a Barossa red Polecat and I  thought it was a cheeky wine and we were amused by its preciousness. Around comes the Laksa my bowl could have doubled for a hand basin, I tucked in had a chat to Emu and Neon and the foods great , more wine, then the raffle left the cash in the car so no chance. Cripes another dish I'm full to the brim so give it a miss but Budgie[67 kg wringing wet] finishes it off.

 

Full to the brim I bid adieu and headed for home being in the wrong lane I missed the Freeway and did the grand night time tour of the Fiona Stanley car parks back on track and little traffic dawesville looms. Thansk to all Pembo10/10.

 

On ON

 

Stumbles

Run 2514 Pembo’s (9th) Easter Tuesday Laksa Run

It was a warm balmy evening when the pack assembled in anticipation of Pembo’s annual Easter Tuesday Run, to be followed by the Laksa meal at his chosen eatery.

Horse called us to order at precisely 6.00 pm, then encouraged Pembo to tell us what was in store. No one believed him when he said that the walkers’ trail was marked with Hi Vi paint, but it was subsequently found to be so. Astonishing, when an earlier paint-marked run by Pembo, some time ago, sparked something akin to the current debate over Messrs. Smith, Warner and Bancroft!

The runners ran, the walkers shuffled, the dogs did what dogs do, and we advanced into Pembo country. Then followed a welcome diversion into Pembo’s back yard, for a mid-run drinks stop – more than kind, and much appreciated.

Then we hurried-on into the ever darkening evening, before returning to The Beer Truck just before 07.00. Emu was firm but discrete, Horse was avuncular. The down-downees were accepting of their fate and, soon, we hurried into the eatery for the promised Laksa, preceded by spring rolls, washed down by the darkest Shiraz it has ever been your reporter’s pleasure to sample.

Afficianados of Asian food declared the Laksa excellent, and required the chef and his staff to acknowledge our appreciation of the food, with their down-downs. There were some who darkly muttered that they would have preferred sausage, but not me, Botak, your white Singaporean.

It was a great evening, appreciated by all. I hope that my Wembley Downs adventure next week will be as good, although the pizza that I will be serving-up will be a faint shadow of the quality and quantity of the Laksa.

Botak