It’s wedding season which also means it’s hen do season, which means I get to celebrate all (seriously… pretty much all) of my friends getting hitched in the space of about 18 months.
May is particularly eventful as it includes two hen weekends, two weddings and a birthday dinner for my pop. Only very slightly scared about how my body will cope with this month of parties, but that’s for another blog post. Today, it’s all about the hens.
The two brides getting married this month are quite different and therefore have had quite different hen weekends. One bride was whisked away to the Costswolds for rolling hills and country lakes, whilst the other put in a special request to her awesome chief bridesmaid (ahem… me) for a weekend in the quaint English city of Bath. (I felt like Kirstie Allsopp as I wrote that.) Both, however, feature a lot of Prosecco.
My country hen isn’t having bridesmaids and her wedding is remaining fairly non-traditional (a girl after my own heart) so traditional hen-do activities were crossed off any potential list of things to do before they’d been thought of. In contrast, my town hen has followed the traditional white wedding route, is getting married in the same church her parents got married in (aaaw!) and therefore she will no doubt be the centre of veils and penis straws come midnight tonight! The fact I get to experience both of these weekends is nothing short of a bonus because, said as someone who never saw the need for a hen do, there is something really wonderful about seeing all your friends rally together to tell one of your gang how much she’s loved and adored.
So here are some snaps from last week’s country hen weekend. I’ll post some of the city pictures next week.
This was the view from our country house. The bride was slightly devastated the boat wouldn’t work but I was mainly relieved. I don’t think “oh sorry, the bride got lost at sea” (sea/lake…whatever) would go down well.
We experienced a glorious ten minutes of sunshine, which were spent outside drinking tea and eating cake and refusing to go in, even when the first drops of rain hit. Before long, we were faced with a typical British rainstorm and ran inside for shelter – and more tea and cake.
I’ll be back next week with part two of the hen party experiences.