I’ve been think a great deal about weddings this year. This is largely due to a number of friends and family who were married last year and are getting married this year. As I am writing this I am on my way to Edinburgh for a “hen weekend”. It’s shaping up to be a good one as I’ll get to see friends I haven’t seen since university.
I normally wouldn’t entertain the idea of going on a hen weekend, our seen a hen party. They have a reputation for rowdy, loutish abandon where otherwise sensible women dress offensively, decked head to tow in cheap, tacky phallic paraphernalia from China with learner plates and drink themselves into oblivion whilst making a show of themselves. Some people may state that this is mere media hyperbole but I have had reluctant first hand experience of this many times before, often made worse with the addition of a stripper which has left me both unimpressed and in a state of disparity each and every time.
This weekend promises to be very different. We have a weekend of the six nations, restaurants, ghost walks and tours planned. We are surprising the bride to be with a golden laurel reef and toga (she studied ancient history and Egyptology and is now an archaeologist) with a book of photos and stories of how she met each and every one of us and good luck wishes for her future.