Saturday, the First of May, was the long-awaited AGM. I know what you’re thinking, has it only been that long? But every political regime must eventually come to an end, and the Hogtown Hash met to institute the changing of the guard with all the high ideals, lofty principles and dignified rules of order you’d see in your average Kyrgyzstani coup.

Meeting at Whistler’s at Broadview and Mortimer, we ran down Pottery Road and into Todmorden Mills. There was a pointless loop through there, which most people followed despite some of us discovering a short cut. This brought us back to Pottery Road, under the DVP and onto the bike path that runs along the Don. Then across the river. The water was nowhere deeper than mid-thigh, but that didn’t stop Half Wit from plunging in over her head.

The trail came out onto Bayview and crossed into the brickworks. After a meander through the parkland in the bowl below, we trudged up the long steep slope of the bowl to the heights above. Then it was simply down the other side back to Bayview and across to the other side, where the beer check was just off Pottery Road.

Back at Rose Eh’s abode in the sky, the final poignant, bittersweet down downs were administered by our outgoing GMs. The pan was gratefully accepted from Shadow, who’d had the presence of mind to retrieve it the previous hash. Both Johnny Cockring and Ra were still waaaaay too interested in participating in my demonstration of the proper application of a donkey punch, as I continued my career as Worst. Sex. Therapist. Ever.

The new guard includes Moonman as RA and COD as GM – I guess all those years of parking the van in front of the bar have finally paid off. In a surprising twist, Dead End was appointed Hash Throat. Surprising because she doesn’t seem to know any songs, but this may just be a way to finally get her lips to stop moving.

Gazing over the glorious view from Rose Eh’s condo, two things came to mind: yes, she really does lord it over the rest of us; and she could have scouted the whole trail from the comfort of her living room sofa, if she had a sofa. Or any furniture at all, except for the little poofy chair Wet Pussy brought, and promptly broke.

She probably had her hash zombie minions set trail, while she cackled from above.