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Feb. 13th, 2012 02:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolSo my hen party happened! Yay!
On Friday, I woke up deliciously late and after some leisurely cleaning, spent the day curled up under a blanket reading North and South. One day, I will write about why North and South is the Greatest Romantic Novel Ever (northerners! industry! Mr Thornton is Richard Armitage in the adaptation! social consciousness!) but that is not today.loneraven came around later, bearing Hangover Breakfast Food and a dress up veil and tiara. "You did ask," she pointed out. We ate pasta and salad, all very sophisticated excluding the fact that pasta sauce came out of a jar, before Iona headed back home.
Not long later, we were joined bymoralrelativist who polished off the rest of the pasta and we all chilled on the sofa for a bit. All things considered, it was a very pleasant Friday.
Saturday morning heralded MY HEN PARTY! Except for a few hours, obviously, so we ate lunch and were devatstaed that my TV no longer picks up ITV4 so we couldn't watch Stargate. But before too long, Lucy and I headed out to the train station to pick up Fiona, Ann and Louise, before heading back to the flat. By this point, my phone was bleeping away merrily and people started turning up in an order I can't remember - Gill and Christine, Mum and my sister, Claire and Philip (he was coming to keep an eye on Richie for the day when we evicted him), Tali, Louise (different Louise!), Enid, Iona and Jess. YEAH KIDS I'M THAT POPULAR. After everyone shared increasingly highly embarrassing memories of me, we all headed out for afternoon tea at the Vincent, which is a Posh Hotel but apparently not above playing the humiliate the bride game. That said, the tea itself was delicious, with a glass of champagne and general good times had. Plus, not to be vain, but I was wearing a dress with a pattern of SWANS. Win.
After another highly expensive drink and the world's most confusing bill ever (big thanks to Iona and Tali for working that one out, my head would have exploded) we came back to the flat, where I was hit with an Ann Summers bag. I'm not entirely sure how or who is responsible for the outpouring of generousity and teamwork, but dudes, I love you all. The Ann Summers bag contained a feather boa, a pin the tail on the donkey game except with a man and many cocks ("You have to stop saying that," my mum said eventually. "It's weird." So I had to call it Pin The Appendage On The Gentleman), L plates, another veil, and rounds of pass the parcel. Plus lots of bottles of fizzy wine and two bottles of ACTUAL CHAMPAGNE, the empties of which are now proudly living room ornaments.
We drank the champagne, and played rounds pass the parcel. Pass the parcel as a child involved passing it as slowly as possible to win the prize. As an adult, it involves dares on each opening and flinging it around as quickly as possible! Highlights involved Tali taking a shot out of a condom (if you'd like to try this at YOUR party, kids, Tali advises using an unlubricated condom), Mum getting a lapdance, embarrassing truths and general hilarity.
Everyone then got changed into their costumes, and I was touched at the efforts that people made - we had costumes from every possible genre, modified boots, light-up TARDIS hats, spray-in hair dye, reflective tape, and oh I'm missing out on so many things but everyone looked AMAZING. I can't upload photos as I've lost Scrapbook, but there are photos here.
However, I had a Plan, and it involved going to a nice cocktail bar in Liverpool, so we headed out into the night. After a warm train journey and a freezing Liverpool, we were ready for a drink, only to be barred entry. "No fancy dress, no hen parties," we were informed. We tried to get into Reflex, which was the second destination. Not open yet.
ARGH. This represents my only regret of the evening (well, second, after Katie wasn't able to make it due to flu). We could have stayed in the flat! But no, it was not to be.
After a brief stop in an underground dancehall bar (no, really) where I berated myself and then drank a lot of vodka, Jo was very kind and ran to and from Reflex to find out when it was open. As soon as we knew it was, we headed in and the night was rescued!
For those that don't know Reflex, it's a cheesy 80's club, with a light-up floor, terrible drinks and a Delorean in the ceiling. We ended up staying there all night, enjoying the terrible music. I've lost track of how many songs we danced too, but it was brilliant, particularly as we got there early enough to colonise a sofa and chairs and make it our spot for the night. We drank terrible drinks out of ridiculously large glasses, and basically I had the BEST NIGHT EVER. Any plans to go anywhere else were thoroughly abandoned, despite men trying to come on to my mum (I threw ice cubes at their heads) and occasional twenty minute Meatloaf songs.
Also, my streak of celebrity death is continuing; Michael Jackson when I graduated, and Whitney Houston on my hen party. The DJ actually announced it, and the whole club found itself on smart phones looking up the news. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the WORLD OF TOMORROW. There is also currently a book open on who will die on my wedding day. Smart money on Status Quo or Cliff Richard.
People drifted away throughout the night, and eventually those of us left called it a night, heading back to the flat.
The next day, I woke up without a hangover (HURRAH) and we played the last two rounds of pass the parcel in between copious amounts of breakfast and leftover pizza. As I said, should have played them the night before but there we go!
It was a BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT night and I can only profusely thank everyone who made it, and helped out making things, and were generally awesome human beings. I am very sad it's over, but now photos are going up on facebook which brings me a large amount of joy.
In other news I am getting married in less than five weeks. Eeep.
On Friday, I woke up deliciously late and after some leisurely cleaning, spent the day curled up under a blanket reading North and South. One day, I will write about why North and South is the Greatest Romantic Novel Ever (northerners! industry! Mr Thornton is Richard Armitage in the adaptation! social consciousness!) but that is not today.
loneraven came around later, bearing Hangover Breakfast Food and a dress up veil and tiara. "You did ask," she pointed out. We ate pasta and salad, all very sophisticated excluding the fact that pasta sauce came out of a jar, before Iona headed back home.Not long later, we were joined by
moralrelativist who polished off the rest of the pasta and we all chilled on the sofa for a bit. All things considered, it was a very pleasant Friday.Saturday morning heralded MY HEN PARTY! Except for a few hours, obviously, so we ate lunch and were devatstaed that my TV no longer picks up ITV4 so we couldn't watch Stargate. But before too long, Lucy and I headed out to the train station to pick up Fiona, Ann and Louise, before heading back to the flat. By this point, my phone was bleeping away merrily and people started turning up in an order I can't remember - Gill and Christine, Mum and my sister, Claire and Philip (he was coming to keep an eye on Richie for the day when we evicted him), Tali, Louise (different Louise!), Enid, Iona and Jess. YEAH KIDS I'M THAT POPULAR. After everyone shared increasingly highly embarrassing memories of me, we all headed out for afternoon tea at the Vincent, which is a Posh Hotel but apparently not above playing the humiliate the bride game. That said, the tea itself was delicious, with a glass of champagne and general good times had. Plus, not to be vain, but I was wearing a dress with a pattern of SWANS. Win.
After another highly expensive drink and the world's most confusing bill ever (big thanks to Iona and Tali for working that one out, my head would have exploded) we came back to the flat, where I was hit with an Ann Summers bag. I'm not entirely sure how or who is responsible for the outpouring of generousity and teamwork, but dudes, I love you all. The Ann Summers bag contained a feather boa, a pin the tail on the donkey game except with a man and many cocks ("You have to stop saying that," my mum said eventually. "It's weird." So I had to call it Pin The Appendage On The Gentleman), L plates, another veil, and rounds of pass the parcel. Plus lots of bottles of fizzy wine and two bottles of ACTUAL CHAMPAGNE, the empties of which are now proudly living room ornaments.
We drank the champagne, and played rounds pass the parcel. Pass the parcel as a child involved passing it as slowly as possible to win the prize. As an adult, it involves dares on each opening and flinging it around as quickly as possible! Highlights involved Tali taking a shot out of a condom (if you'd like to try this at YOUR party, kids, Tali advises using an unlubricated condom), Mum getting a lapdance, embarrassing truths and general hilarity.
Everyone then got changed into their costumes, and I was touched at the efforts that people made - we had costumes from every possible genre, modified boots, light-up TARDIS hats, spray-in hair dye, reflective tape, and oh I'm missing out on so many things but everyone looked AMAZING. I can't upload photos as I've lost Scrapbook, but there are photos here.
However, I had a Plan, and it involved going to a nice cocktail bar in Liverpool, so we headed out into the night. After a warm train journey and a freezing Liverpool, we were ready for a drink, only to be barred entry. "No fancy dress, no hen parties," we were informed. We tried to get into Reflex, which was the second destination. Not open yet.
ARGH. This represents my only regret of the evening (well, second, after Katie wasn't able to make it due to flu). We could have stayed in the flat! But no, it was not to be.
After a brief stop in an underground dancehall bar (no, really) where I berated myself and then drank a lot of vodka, Jo was very kind and ran to and from Reflex to find out when it was open. As soon as we knew it was, we headed in and the night was rescued!
For those that don't know Reflex, it's a cheesy 80's club, with a light-up floor, terrible drinks and a Delorean in the ceiling. We ended up staying there all night, enjoying the terrible music. I've lost track of how many songs we danced too, but it was brilliant, particularly as we got there early enough to colonise a sofa and chairs and make it our spot for the night. We drank terrible drinks out of ridiculously large glasses, and basically I had the BEST NIGHT EVER. Any plans to go anywhere else were thoroughly abandoned, despite men trying to come on to my mum (I threw ice cubes at their heads) and occasional twenty minute Meatloaf songs.
Also, my streak of celebrity death is continuing; Michael Jackson when I graduated, and Whitney Houston on my hen party. The DJ actually announced it, and the whole club found itself on smart phones looking up the news. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the WORLD OF TOMORROW. There is also currently a book open on who will die on my wedding day. Smart money on Status Quo or Cliff Richard.
People drifted away throughout the night, and eventually those of us left called it a night, heading back to the flat.
The next day, I woke up without a hangover (HURRAH) and we played the last two rounds of pass the parcel in between copious amounts of breakfast and leftover pizza. As I said, should have played them the night before but there we go!
It was a BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT night and I can only profusely thank everyone who made it, and helped out making things, and were generally awesome human beings. I am very sad it's over, but now photos are going up on facebook which brings me a large amount of joy.
In other news I am getting married in less than five weeks. Eeep.
