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Apr. 23rd, 2015 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI just had a really lovely weekend. OKAY I am writing this on Thursday but shush.
I woke up late on Friday and bumbled about the house, leaving at what I thought was the perfectly reasonable time of 1.00pm. It should have taken five hours to drive there AT THE MOST, the bridesmaids didn't want anyone there until 7.00pm, EASY I THOUGHT. The drive itself was, for the most part, remarkably pleasant given it was about four hours worth of the A1. I stopped for a leisurely break at the delightfully named OK Diner that sorted me with panics and two pots of tea. Free refills are the BEST. The weather wasn't too bad, and I made what I thought was excellent time. It was at about this point I headed properly into DEEPEST YORKSHIRE where my SatNav decided I really needed to embrace my inner Kathy from Wuthering Heights. I went over the moors, scared some deer, and fretted about the state of my suspension. I made it to what should have been the location to find a sign telling me it was not my location and I needed to head down the road. Fortunately on the way I crossed paths with Kirsty so we arrived in what looked like a purposeful convey.
The bridesmaids had rented a hostel cottage, so essentially a group bathroom with shower stalls and toilet cubicles, a big shared bedroom and a big living room and kitchen area. It was also on a working farm. Still, a lovely comfy shared space to get to know each other in. I got sliiiiiightly too drunk on the first night and overshared (is that a word?) but it was a good night. There were eight of us in total, of which I knew two (including the bride) and had, er, met two of the others. So you can imagine that I may have been panic drinking wine...
Still, the next day dawned bright and early and it turns out I have officially given up any pretence of being able to sleep in if I have even looked at alcohol the day before. At least I made a good washing up fairy. Also, at this farm, there were NEWBORN LAMBS and they NEEDED FEEDING and I was frankly all over that. SO CUTE. Although in retrospect we may have been free labour. Still. We spent a lot of Saturday in Whitby doing touristy things, seeing the Abbey, making Ali take part in a Polaroid camera challenge, eating fish and chips and having the most bizarre walking tours ever. She spent a lot of time being very passionate about the feminine magic that HAD ONCE BEEN IN THESE LANDS until it was destroyed by THE PATRIARCHY and something about LEY LINES AND A DARK SMEAR UPON WHITBY but whatevs this was fairly awesome in itself. Everyone went back to the cottage for a nap and I embraced my new inability to sleep to read whilst curled up in a blanket and listening to... nothing. No neighbour sounds, no traffic, just quiet. Bliss.
This did not last, as in the evening we played some games that had been devised by the bridesmaids and then did Singstar. Until about 3am. Turns out I cannot sing anything but Abba and I am more surprised by this than you are, let me assure you. We drank literary cocktails from Tequila Mockingbird and again just... had a good time. I really enjoyed letting go a bit and meeting new people and stuff, I think I needed it. This was followed up the next day ("Colleen, did you actually go to bed for more than twenty minutes?" "I have had a solid four hours, I'm good to go") by JANE AUSTEN DAY, which was spent mostly in pajamas, playing a card game called Who Will Marry Mr Darcy (I am now obsessed with Colonel Fitzwilliam) and playing a Pride and Prejudice drinking game in the evening. Filthy comments were made about Colin Firth, who had also graced the weekend with his presence in the form of a cardboard cut out.
The next day, after at least me sleeping in the living room ("Look, to be honest I just made a nest and it's the best night's sleep I've had so far") we cleaned up, created party bags of leftovers and came home. I came home with a tin of soup, some triple sec, a lot of salad and an eye infection, which was not in the party bag but was possibly a result of totally failing to sleep. That said, I didn't feel tired until I came to write about it now, so that's good I suppose. (In the end I stopped in Grantham for not only eye drops but also thrush medication because LIFE IS CRUEL.)
Excluding the general soreness, I had such a lovely weekend. I met some fab new people (by Sunday, Rose and I had decided we were possibly separated at birth, having spent a weekend discussing geekiness, curly hair tips, and a good hour on Why Our Jobs Make Us Terrible At Parties), did all the stuff I liked (tourism! drinking! literature!) and the bridge also had an excellent time, which is crucial. My good mood has tipped over into this week as well, and I've been quite productive in work and now given in those two assignments I was talking about. Also I am now over the Take Eyedrops Every Two Hours part of the treatment which is also a highlight.
In such: I thoroughly advocate weekends that include shouting "RECKLESS FEMININE INDEPENDENCE! TAKE A SHOT!"
I woke up late on Friday and bumbled about the house, leaving at what I thought was the perfectly reasonable time of 1.00pm. It should have taken five hours to drive there AT THE MOST, the bridesmaids didn't want anyone there until 7.00pm, EASY I THOUGHT. The drive itself was, for the most part, remarkably pleasant given it was about four hours worth of the A1. I stopped for a leisurely break at the delightfully named OK Diner that sorted me with panics and two pots of tea. Free refills are the BEST. The weather wasn't too bad, and I made what I thought was excellent time. It was at about this point I headed properly into DEEPEST YORKSHIRE where my SatNav decided I really needed to embrace my inner Kathy from Wuthering Heights. I went over the moors, scared some deer, and fretted about the state of my suspension. I made it to what should have been the location to find a sign telling me it was not my location and I needed to head down the road. Fortunately on the way I crossed paths with Kirsty so we arrived in what looked like a purposeful convey.
The bridesmaids had rented a hostel cottage, so essentially a group bathroom with shower stalls and toilet cubicles, a big shared bedroom and a big living room and kitchen area. It was also on a working farm. Still, a lovely comfy shared space to get to know each other in. I got sliiiiiightly too drunk on the first night and overshared (is that a word?) but it was a good night. There were eight of us in total, of which I knew two (including the bride) and had, er, met two of the others. So you can imagine that I may have been panic drinking wine...
Still, the next day dawned bright and early and it turns out I have officially given up any pretence of being able to sleep in if I have even looked at alcohol the day before. At least I made a good washing up fairy. Also, at this farm, there were NEWBORN LAMBS and they NEEDED FEEDING and I was frankly all over that. SO CUTE. Although in retrospect we may have been free labour. Still. We spent a lot of Saturday in Whitby doing touristy things, seeing the Abbey, making Ali take part in a Polaroid camera challenge, eating fish and chips and having the most bizarre walking tours ever. She spent a lot of time being very passionate about the feminine magic that HAD ONCE BEEN IN THESE LANDS until it was destroyed by THE PATRIARCHY and something about LEY LINES AND A DARK SMEAR UPON WHITBY but whatevs this was fairly awesome in itself. Everyone went back to the cottage for a nap and I embraced my new inability to sleep to read whilst curled up in a blanket and listening to... nothing. No neighbour sounds, no traffic, just quiet. Bliss.
This did not last, as in the evening we played some games that had been devised by the bridesmaids and then did Singstar. Until about 3am. Turns out I cannot sing anything but Abba and I am more surprised by this than you are, let me assure you. We drank literary cocktails from Tequila Mockingbird and again just... had a good time. I really enjoyed letting go a bit and meeting new people and stuff, I think I needed it. This was followed up the next day ("Colleen, did you actually go to bed for more than twenty minutes?" "I have had a solid four hours, I'm good to go") by JANE AUSTEN DAY, which was spent mostly in pajamas, playing a card game called Who Will Marry Mr Darcy (I am now obsessed with Colonel Fitzwilliam) and playing a Pride and Prejudice drinking game in the evening. Filthy comments were made about Colin Firth, who had also graced the weekend with his presence in the form of a cardboard cut out.
The next day, after at least me sleeping in the living room ("Look, to be honest I just made a nest and it's the best night's sleep I've had so far") we cleaned up, created party bags of leftovers and came home. I came home with a tin of soup, some triple sec, a lot of salad and an eye infection, which was not in the party bag but was possibly a result of totally failing to sleep. That said, I didn't feel tired until I came to write about it now, so that's good I suppose. (In the end I stopped in Grantham for not only eye drops but also thrush medication because LIFE IS CRUEL.)
Excluding the general soreness, I had such a lovely weekend. I met some fab new people (by Sunday, Rose and I had decided we were possibly separated at birth, having spent a weekend discussing geekiness, curly hair tips, and a good hour on Why Our Jobs Make Us Terrible At Parties), did all the stuff I liked (tourism! drinking! literature!) and the bridge also had an excellent time, which is crucial. My good mood has tipped over into this week as well, and I've been quite productive in work and now given in those two assignments I was talking about. Also I am now over the Take Eyedrops Every Two Hours part of the treatment which is also a highlight.
In such: I thoroughly advocate weekends that include shouting "RECKLESS FEMININE INDEPENDENCE! TAKE A SHOT!"
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Date: 2015-04-23 08:30 pm (UTC)