Lucky old me has had not one but two weekends away in the last month. Perhaps explaining the lack of blogging for October! As most mums will agree a weekend away now takes a lot more planning. Gone are the days when you could stuff some clothes, a toothbrush and your hair straighteners in a bag and go. Preparation to leave Mr. B and the kids involves food shopping, (so they don't live on biscuits all weekend), preparing over night bags for granny's, (you didn't think Mr. B would have them all on his own did you?!), leaving out a selection of MATCHING kids clothes.....I could go on.
But all this is well worth it for two wonderful weekends away with my gorgeous friends and family.
Weekend 1 involved a cottage in North Yorkshire with six of my bestest girly friends, some of whom I met when I was 18 and I have have now known for 18 years, EEK! The first shock of the weekend was that we were in a farm house on an actual farm. Yes it did say, 'Farm House', when we booked it but most of us had wrongly assumed this was artistic license! So a farm house in the middle of no where surrounded by sheep and cows. Perfect. The first night the lovely cosy cottage was subjected to much drunken girly high spirits to say the least. When we eventually crawled out of our beds on saturday afternoon I for one was in a whole world of pain. Why do I do it? Just because the kids aren't around doesn't mean it's a good idea to drink my body weight in vodka. After one of Mrs G's famous bacon and egg butties I managed to show some small signs of recovery and was at least able to maintain an upright position. As saturday progressed it became apparent that I had serious memory loss over various points of the evening. Not only was I repeating stories I had told on the friday night, but I had zero recollection of my rendition of Rizzo's solo from Grease, or mine and Mrs G's infamous version of the Wham Rap!! (Any readers under 30 better ask your mums!). After hearing tell of "Proud Mary", "Whitehall Rd style" (where a bunch of us lived commune style after graduation), it slowly and painfully started to come back.....
It was a lovely sunny day so we eventually rallied ourselves for a country walk. Some of us who shall remain nameless had cans of cider in hand, you can take the girls out of Newcastle....The comment of the afternoon had to be Ms D puzzling as to how the farmers made the cows do their business in the slurry pit!!
Saturday night was a far more subdued affair and centred around comfort food and the X Factor. Whilst we were watching Treyc perform (don't get us started on that ridiculous name spelling). Ms D and Mrs G were outside the farm house having a cigarette. "Why are they booing Treyc?" Asked Mrs G. "They're not Booing they are Mooing!!!", replied Ms D. The X Factor as always led to much lively discussion. Ms D said we were not allowed to fancy any of the young boys who were the same age as her son, (I asked if this rule would still apply when he turned 30, and apparently it will!). Cheryl's poor choice of hair colour was morned, and opinion was split over Cher. In short we sounded like our mothers.
Can't wait for next years jaunt girls it was pricless xxx PS Can anyone remember what Mrs A said during the X Factor that had us all in stitches?
Weekend number 2 was Miss B's hen party. In complete contrast barring the fun, this was a city break to Manchester staying in a fancy city centre apartment. Champagne was drunk, food was eaten ... the bride to be was tortured with a game of "Mr and Mrs". Much fun.
I shared a room with my sister Mrs (or PC D) and our mum. After breakfast we set out for a days shopping, a visit to the Champagne and Nair bar in Harvey Nichols and scrummy afternoon tea. After a lie down, shower and change we were all ready for a night out and a table had been booked at Rosso in Manchester. Rosso is apparently owned by the footballer Rio Ferdinand. It is a lovely large converted old bank, and was packed on a saturday night. Prior to us arriving Mrs E.G had E-mailed our food choices to the restaurant. However when we arrived we were shown to a table 2 places too small for our party. Mrs E.G (later re-named the smiling assassin) dealt with this sistuation so well I think she should give classes. Smiling all the time she explained to the manager that all details of our party had been E-mailed earlier to him. That we would like another table and definatly a glass of Prosecco whilst we waited, ( there were 16 of us!). The manager couldn't do enough for her and I for one was in awe!
We had a great night and carried on the fun back at the apartments. I went to bed around 2pm, and this should be the end of the story, However..............
At 4pm our bedroom door was flung open by a young, tattooed drunken man in a pair of board shorts. In case you were wondering this was no hen party tomfoolery! "What are you doing in my bed You Knob head!", he shouted, before the penny dropped that he was talking to my 62 year old mother!! "Get Out !!" She shouted - a point she notes with some pride when recountimng this tale. Quick as a flash PC D was out of bed and man handling him out the apartment, pausing only to check that the girls in the other bedroom had not been raped and pillaged (Should she keep him prisoner??!). Moments later a so called security guard knocked on the door and confessed he had found him wondering the halls, he had said this was his apartment so he'd let him in!!! After the shock had subsided we laughed until our tummies hurt. The next day PC D (she really is a copper by the way) and Mrs E.G pointed out the serious nature of the security guards mal practise. In short we look forward to a free return visit!! Well would you argue with them?
Much love to Miss B on her impending nuptuals xx
After all the excitment I need a few weekends at home to recover...
Love
Kerry B
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