First, the two previous Monday night hashes came and went. Natty Porn set the first one, from Orwell’s pub at Bloor and Islington. She ran us down Islington for what felt like forever, then as if by magic the trail turned left. Her explanation was that she’d set the trail the day before, then the rain and all, some of the trail was washed away. Etc., etc., more self-justifying rationalizations. She kept the pack together through her haring superpower, so most if not all of us followed trail. It was a short, fairly simple trail, winding its way over to the crick that flows south of Bloor. Much to the surprise of a few of the pack, the trail did not cross the water, but teased at doing so and then went over the bridge and along the bank. The beer check was nicely placed under the Bloor bridge, so we could drink under there like the trolls we are.

Inexplicably, Natty had set more trail heading east after the beer check, but only the visitors and newbies went that way, the more-experienced, hardened and perhaps cynical veterans turning the other way and heading directly back to the bar.

Mama’s Boy was a new Hogtown hasher to make his presence, as well as the Kiwi Kouple, Flasher and Self Promotion, who seem to be becoming regulars. Perhaps we should build them a bonfire...

What would have been the next Saturday Hogtown hash was given over to the TWAT Pink Dress run, and be assured that everyone looked fabulous, and kept their cool and vamped even when the firefighters swept up part of the trail because people were afraid it was a toxic and/or hazardous substance.

Shampoo set the next Monday run, and it was the scary summer solstice on June 21 and he warned everybody to beware of the Druids and their bizarre sacrifices. This run set out from Betty’s on King Street East, and it fobbled about a bit in the downtown before heading down Cherry Street to the docklands. Shampoo had claimed that on this trail there would be something resembling Stonehenge (and that was the pylons of the Gardiner Expressway) and something that brought to mind the strange, savage rites of the Druids – Moonman was clever/dirty-minded enough to guess that it was sacrificing virgins (and that was a short street called Virgin Place off King Street).

The beer check was at the Keating Channel pub down by the docks, though Shadow and Hump Day had managed to independently get themselves lost, and it was a fine thing – not Shadow and Hump Day getting lost, because Gispert himself weeps when hashers miss the beer check – but drinking on the patio on the longest day of the year, while the oil slicks on the canal formed themselves into the shapes of pretty birds and butterflies. Oh, and the opportunity to accuse Half Wit of having crabs when she rescued that dear ittle bittle spider.

And on June 26, many of the most important world leaders and black-clad anarchists came to town in honour of Johnny Cockring’s birthday hash. The anarchists were so excited by the event that they burned several police cruisers in celebration.

And then they caused an earthquake, too. And worst of all, they made it rain steadily throughout the day on Saturday, washing away many of Johnny’s impeccable trail markings.

Fortunately, Johnny has a finely tuned, sharply-honed legal mind. And what is the major principle underlying the successful practise of law? I know, you probably thought “lying” first. But that’s just 99 percent of lawyers, who give the rest of them a bad name. No, that principle is “precedent.” So, in the same way he uses his familiarity with the accumulated body of legal knowledge, Johnny was able to set a trail using the experience gained from his previous trails.

So, if you’d been to last year’s Johnny Cockring Birthday Hash, or the year’s before that, or the year’s before that, you probably had a good chance of following this year’s trail.

The hashing gods decided to stop the rain just before we set off. Or maybe Johnny threatened to sue. Our trail took us to the end of Johnny’s street and north of Kingston Road, like always. We went up and down, back and forth on those streets for a while, before hitting Kingston Road again. Then in what seemed like the wrong direction, back towards downtown as far as Rosetta McClain Gardens. Very pretty, and giving at least one person the opportunity to run through some wedding photos, but it was still heading away from our goal. But here we turned back in the right direction, and eventually got back to Kingston Road just steps from where we’d crossed. In the mall there was a dark cave called Al Mac’s where there was a beer check – once Johnny shooed us in, we were all huddled in front like we were afraid to enter.

After that, refreshed, the runners were sent off through a scenic ravine while the walkers got to shortcut. The path through Bluffer’s Park offered another bit of the natural glory that is Scarborough, and up ahead was the hill where the martini check always is. The mob already gathered there proved that martinis were again being served. Johnny’s daughters had mixed their usual delicious selection of cocktails and were surrounded by their usual admirers.

Back at Johnny’s house Moon Man went in the pool naked, despite the rule against pool noodles. The young guys who called themselves the studs liked to show off, too, until they began being called the duds. There was a mass naming of walkers, who had already named themselves and started their own walking hash, all on the QT, but this made it official. After that, too busy stuffing face to pay attention.