Monday, 16 July 2012

Thirteen hens, one old broiler and a bin bag go to Bristol !

Wow! Has it really been that long since I last blogged. I do hope that you haven't given up on me, but I have been somewhat busy over the last few weeks with this wedding business malarkey. But all that's done and dusted because, dear readers, we've gone and done it and I'm now a fiftysomething wife! Yep! The deed is done and me and the rather delectable Mr R are now a Mr and Mrs !
So what to tell you first? I should really go back a few weeks and let you all know about my rather fabulous hen do with my rather fabulous friends.
You may recall in a previous post that I was umming and arrhing about just how to celebrate my last few weeks as a rather mature singleton. My dream hen do was a weekend in Paris, but that was deemed too expensive. Then, there was the weekend glamping. That too was poo pooed. The girls wanted to wear heels and not wellies! I wanted an adventure. They wanted cocktails and glamour. I was out voted so an evening of sophistication it was then!
I made it very clear from the onset that pink tutus, deeley boppers and anything willy shaped was a total no no for the do. They might look vaguely ok on a twenty year old, but on me..well, just use your imagination! It's not a good look is it!

I have to say therefor that I was ever so slightly suspicious when my friend arrived at the station with a rather heavy bin liner. Had my request been flagrantly disregarded? I rather hoped not. Despite pleading to take a peek inside the bag, I was told in no uncertain terms to keep my mitts off of it!
We arrived in Bristol with time to spare before needing to be at our first venue, so a quick trip to the nearest watering hole was in order. One of my bestest friend's who is, shall I put it politely, rather choosey, refused point blank to set foot over the threshold of a Wetherspoons!  We assured her that she would survive the ordeal and come out unscathed, and dragged her almost kicking into the bar!
Four bottles of wine and twenty minutes later, we almost rolled our way to the taxi rank and went in convoy to our first official port of call.

I had always fancied a vintage tea party so was rather excited about endless cups of tea and plates of yummy cakes and scrummy sarnies at Cox and Baloney .Since I came up with the idea of a vintage wedding theme, I've been rather taken with the whole vintage scene. Instead of lusting over the latest contempory designs, I've been going gooey eyed over prettiness and twee. Give me a mismatched set of teaplates any day!

Cox and Baloney did us proud and pulled the stops out to make sure only the scrummiest of goodies graced our table. My hen's tucked in and we had a ball. I felt a bit like the queen bee and I was lapping up all of the attention from my gals. I had  lots of fun fun filming them stuffing their faces on Mr R's brand new never been used camcorder!

Time passed all too quickly and we needed to bade farewell to our lovely hosts and hopped into the nearest taxi to take a five minute ride to my fabulous wedding venue Goldbrick House for a cocktail or two. We needed something strong to get over the shock of being ripped off by our taxi driver. Eighteen pounds for a five minute ride !!! Flipping heck that's just totally scandalous! Keen to show off where we were due to tie the knot two weeks later, I took guided tours of our venue which is a rabbit warren of rooms and stairs. It's one of those places that you need to lay a trail of stones or something to find your way back from the loo. I wouldn't be at all surprised if there were a few poor lost souls still trying to find their way back to their tables hours after needing a quick wee!

After an hour we were off again. We stumbled down Bristol's mega steep Park Street in the pouring rain (Stumbling due to wearing heels on a wet slope, and nothing to do with guzzling those cocktails you understand!)The bin bag by now was almost in tatters and the poor fellow hen lugging it around was huffing and puffing somewhat loudly! I meanwhile had less than a good vision of me wearing a soggy floppy tutu and droopy willies!

Oue final destination was the newly opened  Harveys Cellars. Harveys  used to be a Bristol institution. A posh restaurant deep in the cellars behind the Bristol Hippodrome. I was always curious to know what it looked like inside but it was too posh for my family to dine there when I was growing up. We were more of a Berni Inn sort of family. The old Harveys closed down several years ago and recently reopened as a rather sophisticated cocktail bar and tapas restaurant. There was never any question of it not being part of my girlie day. Now, at last, I would be able to satisfy that curiousity !

You can't imagine how excited I got when we were shown into the VIP lounge especially as it had one of those big red ropes to stop the hoi polloi from gate crashing our party. We had our own (rather hunky) waiter who treated us like VIPs.even if at this point we all looked a bit worse for wear due to the rain. The cocktails were I have to say amazing and the tapas fab. At last it was time to reveal the contents of that bin liner. goes. Time for total humiliation ! But of course my lovely girlies would never do that, and delving into the bag I pulled out goodie after goodie. All brilliant gifts carefully chosen to enhance our honeymoon. Some of my lovely  pressies were edible, but  I'll say no more than that subject!!

So that was my hen do. A huge improvement on that glass of chardonney with my mum and sister before wedding number one. I had the most fabulous time ever. I should be able to relive it and enjoy watching the video lovingly filmed on the camcorder. Only problem being is that I forgot to press record...duh!

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