Seaweed took us to Qatar's original airport, being restored to a rather Costa Del Sol appearance, though only camels flying down the runway today. There weren't hundreds of us, but what we lacked in quantity we made up for. Short, C said. It wasn't. It was hot and the sand was soft. And a long long time between trails it seemed. There were no falsies, but we came upon 3 dots. An ingenious novel (?) device: forking the run; you took your choice and either ended happily at 2 or the wrong option (checking back). There were scorpions in the reeds, a fox, plenty of snake (tracks), birds, lizards, and camels but still no sign of Klueless's Gnu (or was it a mousse?). The Devious Weed had us going round in those spiral formations he likes (and we don't!), but he did say there were 3 trails and there were. There were accusations of lost on-ins, but to me that was just the klipe kliping, especially as he struggled for unkind words to say about the run. Gump, the only one left standing really, came in first at last. The Lord said "Adversity is the first path to truth." We'd been through it, and Byron stepped up to the plate to administer the bucket of truth, which was like a see saw, one minute ruthlessly including us all, the next shining light of kindness and comapassion. In the end In and Out got another, but this week acceptable, soaking together with the guest hornblower for some rubbish reason. Another Byronism goes "Always laugh when you can" which is how we watched the sun go down.
These are the days the Hash family really does feel like a family.
Don't stay indoors next Sunday, come and join us, when, Mr Myself Himself will be guesting.
Happy Summer Everyone
on on.
(any resemblance to persons living or appearing to is purely intentional)
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