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Newsletter Section Run 443 & Hackers Friday, 4.30pm and Couch arrives. In goes the sleeping bag (will be used), the bed (wont be used) and the bag with the clean underwear (wont be used), shaving kit (ditto), change of clothes (mostly unused because it transpires that you cant go on a fucking golf course unless your wearing a pox ridden shirt with a pox ridden collar and you have proper pants and a carrot up your arse and so my spare clothes are borrowed off Lada) and the official hash blow up mascot. So, with Toyota packed to the gills we're off, but only to get Pencil. Somehow we fit him and his golf clubs, his 487 photos of his wife and kids, 27 original watercolours of the dog, which has just cost him a fortune when he needed to get the vet to count its legs, assorted shirts with collars and a carrot and we're off, but only to Susan Woods because its been raining and shes been flooded and its Friday and Toot doesn't know the meaning of FINISH WORK EARLY. Toot goes in, we wait, Couch wonders if she does, or if she doesn't and me and Pencil drink Toots Old Dark. Out comes Toot, and we're off this time all the way to Waitakaruru for some Shark and Tatey and a quick slash behind the flax bush. Then its Opoutere or bust. Arrive an hour or so later at base camp trees, trees, trees, caravans, trees, a bunkhouse sorta thingy, a couple more trees, some trees and the occasional tree. Actually, for a boys weekend it looks pretty damn hard to beat pool table, TV and not a wife and kid in earshot. Animal has been there for hours and leads the charge into the first round of nectar, pool and cards. If my memory serves me correctly I got through the night unbeaten at both and in fact do recall a ten no trumps with my left hand while thumping Derf at pool with my right no mean feat seeing the pool table was upstairs from the card table. Perhaps my memory jests somewhat. However, well into tomorrow we all crash all except for wait for it wait for it Lada. However, multiple Fuck Off's finally convince him that no one wants to play and peace ensues. There is the odd snore from Animal which eventually drives Couch out of the room, but after that nothinzawurry. Four hours later its breakfast sausages, eggs, bacon, hash browns and onions. "Wheres the cereal Baptist". "Fuck off Musturd". "Wheres the fruit Lada". "Fuck off Musturd". "Wheres the Tomato Juice Derf". "Fuck off Musturd". (actually I was only fooling with this one I don't drink the shit). "I'll eat the fat and cholesterol free sausages, eggs and bacon shall I then fellahs". "Aw get off your high horse and eat your fuckin' breakfast". Now its off to golf with borrowed shirt, borrowed clubs, borrowed balls, water bottle and carrot. Actually get bat to ball off the first tee but suffer from a pull, or is it a draw, pull, draw, draw, pull, who cares never see the ball again anyway because it disappears into the one in a hundred year flood that has recently afflicted the golf course and I have to drop, making my second my third from the edge of the fairway and all that other golfy talk. The rest of it's a blur, I wander over hill and vale, taking six swings to Couch's one, loosing and finding balls, my feet are wet, I've got a blister on my hand from the golf clubs (which incidentally happened because I was holding it wrong - or so Animal informs me AFTER THE POXY ROUND IS OVER), but miraculously enough I remain slightly ahead of the most golf, which goes to Derfs mate Muzza who collects an eighteen on the first hole and never recovers. After the golf, totally knackered, its off to the whole object of this dissertation Run 443. Run 443 is a relay conducted in go-karts on a very slippery track. If my memory serves me correctly I was clearly the winner. However, I now know my memory is definitely not serving me correctly as I was spun out by Toot, spun out by Pencil, laughed at by Lada and couldn't get anywhere near Ayrton Couch in the red machine that I am sure had a newer engine than the others. The details of the trail basically are 'down the straight, turn right, down the straight, turn right', stop when the light goes red and don't forget to sign the register. The it was back to the hutch for dinner, cards and pool, have a kip, get up for the rugger. Dinner did not contain any bacon, sausages, eggs, hash browns or onions. Dinner was lamb a Derf special and delicious with pees and spuds as the token gesture towards a fibre based diet. Not much drinking, everyone knackered and uh oh!! No alarm clock. If we crash how are we gonna get up for the rugger. Someone can stay up and guess who that might be . yep its Lada, with a little help from yours truly. So Lada and I settle in for a quiet drink or two and a few hands of 'two handed' five hundred. I distinctly remember getting eight or nine spades on a six call and lost every other hand. Somewhere around 3.00am we had a brain wave. Lets cook the boys some sausages and eggs. It will dent breakfast a bit, but there should be plenty of bacon, hash browns and fried onions left, so what the hell and we're into it. Who wouldn't want to get up at 4.00 am to sausages and eggs Pencil having left strict instructions to wake everybody for a pre-rugger On On. So Lada and I slave over a hot stove, cooking, cooking, cooking then, at about 3.45, we sound the alarm. Well you would think we had committed a capital fucking crime. There was moaning and groaning, the sausages and eggs were getting cold, I thought Toot was gonna hook me, Baptist was running around saying don't wind Derf up, he will get violent etc etc etc. Do you think Lada and I like slaving over a hot stove at three in the morning, always with you guys its "Me, Me, Me". We never wanted your bloody children in the first place. Anyway, I digress, slowly but surely the boys surfaced for some sausages and eggs cooked to varying degrees and somewhere between luke-warm and cold. Then we had a quick On On during which:
Then it was all around the TV and the Rugger. Jonah scored, the Blacks won and we went back to bed. Except for Toot who had calmed down enough to be a real prick and stay up. A couple of hours kip and up for bacon, hash browns, fried onions, left over spuds and pees - sausages and eggs being in somewhat short supply followed by a declaration that the bar was open for a few drinks before packing up. Depart on schedule, some for Thames and more golf, but Me, Toot, Pencil and Couch straight back home because Couch (thank christ and praise the lord) had to get back to the chickens. Got home, slept all afternoon, girded my loins and prepared for tomorrow. On On
RUN 444. 11 October 1999, The Committee - Under The Viaduct, Newmarket. It's taken about 17 years and 2 months to reach this milestone, the 444th Vets run. It was a rather well patronised strip of turf under the Newmarket viaduct when 6:15pm rolled around, regulars making up only half the pack. The balance, a bunch of greyer and mostly more portly Vet members of times long ago, (perhaps with the exception of Rogernomics), other visitors and one solitary spilt bum. Musturd arrived a tad after 6:25pm and no doubt had to push the blood pressure to catch the pack which by now had disappeared down the railway line towards Newmarket. Having been part of the team that set the run I am unable to comment on the antics during that first stretch, however it was refreshing to hear Scruffys' horn in the distance from time to time. The trial looped around some of Newmarket's growing inner city dwellers, over the railway overbridge and tossed the pack across Broadway and down Teed Street. Through the carpark, up Seccombes, left into Maungawhau and Almorah Roads to he first Piss Stop. The ever competitive Wilma, accompanied by Joe 90, Goat (comment from the Register: "Hard walk"), Piss of Piss and dog were part of the early brigade to the first piss stop...........some things never change do they Goat! It was interesting to note Screaming Mee Mee "fronted" in 6th spot, one place ahead of the next regular Vet, Bull Moose and dog. Stone's Green Ginger Wine greeted those dry lips on this occasion. The trial continued up Almorah Road and eventually into Glenfell Place, but only after Pencil, Derf and Toot had the pleasure of watching the entire pack swallow the False Trail into further inner city dwelling. Following the perimeter of the Government House grounds the trail climbed more stairs than notches in Derf's belt into Mt. Eden Domain. There were two clever ex Grand Masters that figured they knew best and continued their climb, I am reliably informed upwards to the summit of Mt. Eden. Alas the trial turned left and followed the grounds of Eden Gardens to a second Piss stop half way up the side of Mt. Eden. Again Joe 90 and now a very red faced Wilma lead the pack, followed closely by Hertz, who advised it was his first outing on the road since he retired from the Vets on doctors orders...........yeh right Hertz. Baptist and an unconcerned Musturd joined the troops sometime later thanks to constant calling from Scruffy. Probably the most significant factor of the second Piss Stop was the fact that the entire Pack reached this point, including the likes of Robman, Phil Warren, Tubba, Lada and Nellie! On the first daylight saving run of this season no one seemed in too much of a hurry to leave and head straight down and home. By the time the Committee had packed up and returned to the viaduct the first runners had reached this point where numbers were boosted by the arrival of Mary Poppins and Polevaulter. Derf had organised a traditional feed of steak (good steak) and sausages however, I am compelled to advise he bitched like hell when forced to butter the bread. The Hash Erection was made of number of Down Down's:
Foot note: Philly The Shit did make an appearance late in the evening So there it was another chapter in the history of the Vet's. On On Pencil Random Comments from the Register: Nick - "Mad Bastards"
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