Over a couple of days a strange assortment of over fifty hashers descended on the idyllic Ocean Queen Resort located, on the South Java coast, just 4 to 8 hours from downtown Jakarta. There were old and young hashers, there were 1.5, 2 and 4 legged hashers, spouses, girlfriends, toy boys and concubines, there were Krauts, Austrians [right wing Krauts], Frogs, Itis, Cloggies, Indonesians, Canuks, Irish, Septics, Kiwis, Aussies, Poms, Belgians, Singaporeans, Pakistani Lookalikes, Japs and even the much maligned Bolivians. There were noticeably no Albanians, Senegalese or Pitcairn Islanders. After arriving late on Friday night I awoke after an excellent night’s sleep to the delicate scents of the Indian Ocean and the soothing tones of the waves lapping just a short distance from our bungalow. Soon though the spell was to be broken by various other noises and odours as the other cabineers were addressing the first functions of the day.

A lazy, get to know your neighbour, type of morning was the build-up to the main event, when bright eyed and bushy tailed we all congregated, at 3.00pm, ready for the off. Instructions were instructed by the hares, the hash master made some inane comments, before we were all shipped off to a site some three or so kilometres away and were told to find our way back. A steep and unpleasant path was to follow and most succeeded. On reaching the highest point we were to come across Ibu Next Week and Ibu Mudguard swanning around as if they were on an afternoon’s sojourn to Sogo – they had arrived by ojek and appeared to want nothing to do with the more stressful side of hashing.

Once at the top, the view over the coast was magnificent, and reminded me so much of Wales and especially that panorama of Swansea Bay, towards the lovely Mumbles. Bp. Masturbator was waiting at hand with a cooling drink that tasted somewhat like bats piss, according to Angie. We were still a long way from where we came, but now it was mostly down hill, through sawah, through scrub, across streams and a little kampung. In general perhaps not quite as arduous as expected. Eventually just a short stretch across the beach. At one point we lost some runners who took the medium run option, but most had ploughed gainfully-on for the longer run. I was castigated by my partner, Buffalo Girl, for leaving her in the jungle, and I later wondered why she didn’t seem impressed when I said ‘it would make a man of her.’ When we arrived back Ibu Next Week and Ibu Mudguard were already waiting, having showered, lipsticked and perfumed, ready for the start of the circle. Nice shirts.

In deference to ladies and some little people [including his son] Crusty Nuts did not lead us in his usual S and M man and there were generally fewer than usual references to blow jobs and below-the-belt body parts, although Belinda continued to piss out the window, even if Dinah had a fairy light rather than the usual piece of….. The only announcement was about the next run, the next day. The run discussion was all nicey-nice stuff, except for Angie who complained, as usual, about too much something or other. So it was, a good or very good or perhaps excellent run, if I remember. RA Herpes was in acerbic form, apparently gloating at the recent ascendance of Austria to world renown; punishment was levied to all except his own countrymen. The circle was a lively affair with lots of new comers and interlopers from other hashes being welcomed with down-downs. A great opportunity to attract new members was lost when the hash master decided to give us a detailed account of his earlier ablutions on the mountainside. The circle was of reduced size after this point. The hares songs were totally unmemorable; to me any case. As the circle closed there was a sprint cross to the restaurant where makan had been laid on and copious amount of the amber nectar were at hand. Tired and more the worse for ware I sauntered back to find an uninvited group wanting to play with my Jenga.

The sun was still ascending when 20 or so stalwarts arrived at the circle, at 9.30 a.m., and soon we were being shipped off some 6kms, on the road to Bayia. The run was much of the same stuff as the day before, even if in a different area. Up a bit, down a lot and across a lot. A one point I got caught behind a group of flappers, from TGIF, The Pussies, Batavia, Sexhash and a couple of dogs. Eventually I threaded my way through the mayhem, but now I know why JHHH is the pre-eminent hash in town. I was next to catch sight of Dripper then the hash master and for obvious reasons I made a concerted effort to pass them both quickly. Eventually onto the beach and a long run in.

A short circle, but still long enough for three down downs, to set me on way for the drive back home. I guess there was a run discussion, but there were no new songs. Mudguard may have sung a song or two. Shamcock made a balls-up of a good song; he voice was marginally better when he had hair on his face. KK wore the most absolutely stupid hat of the weekend. Looking like a reincarnation of Don Bradman [if he is dead] Tom Jones sported a smashing new cap, which may fit if he gets a new head. So soon it all came to an end.

This was the four-hour run back to Jakarta, which had far too much kampung, but thankfully no checks.

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