It matters not what others have to say about the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Summer has now officially ended for Samford Hash, and the official Samford Hash Winter begins next Sunday, the 7th of April. So mark your diaries - enter a reminder on your phone - set an alarm - from next Sunday our runs/walks will start at 4 pm. Don't forget!
When penning an Easter Sunday post it's hard to avoid some eggstreme and eggstensive and eggsessive and eggstravagant and eggscruciating and eggregious punning. It's happened in the past, but this year I'm determined to eggscise as many eggsamples as I can and eggsert some control over myself (sorry about all that. Ahem.)
Hare Dumbbell is still using a crutch, and though he's back in training, he's not eggsercizing his leggs yet. We thought this was a good enough eggscuse for the absence of trail markings as we eggsplored the area. The site goes under water fairly eggstensively and frequently and it was still eggsessively damp in parts, but the walkers were able to keep their eggstremities dry. The runners added an eggscursion through Strathpine, circling the eggsterior of the shopping centre on their way back (sorry, again, about all that).
Back home, Saucy Sous laid (ignore that, please) on an eggscellent, eggstraordinary and eggsceptional (stop it!) feast of honey-soy drumsticks, salad and spud bake, all followed up by Easter eggs. Many thanks to our Easter bunny hares!
Here are a few of Saucy Sous' shots from the occasion.
"The trail goes this way":
"No, this way":
"No, this is the way, Dad":
The eggscitable, eggstraverted and eggshibitionist Le W*nk proposed a down, down for the "over-achievers" Dumbbell and Banger, and was judged to be worthy of one himself:
