Let me start by saying I reall, really wanted to have our hen and stag do at the same time. But this didn’t happen. In the end, the people we were arranging it around couldn’t get back soon enough and we had to book, so they ended up being booked on separate dates… three weeks apart. I was very disappointed because in the end the friend who restricted the dates and made it impossible simply didn’t turn up. Something else came up. This also cost my best man money, who organised everything in good faith from those who said they were coming, so it was really unfair on him too.
The reason I mention this?
Because not only did I spent all of Guy’s stag do missing him and feeling left out of the fun, but when my hen came about I was bothered about him not being there and feeling that he had been sent away because of a silly tradition. We did want separate hen and stag dos, but if I had been a bit more selfish earlier, we might have got what we actually wanted left nobody been unhappy for it.
We didn’t actually wait too long before asking our best man and woman to organise the dos (giving them ideas of the kinds of things we wanted), but with the date organising delays and attempts to get initial numbers it ended up being pushed back and back.
For his stag, Guy wanted to go somewhere. He didn’t want strippers and strip clubs and, with the Cherubs underrepresented, he got what he wanted. Caz played with the idea of doing an archery session before the drinking kicked in, but unfortunately they were unable to secure a club in time (or, well, nobody got back to her).
They decided to go to Oxford. They booked somewhere to stay, a comedy for the evening and went pubbing and punting during the day.
In order to make it more fun, I decided to pack Guy a “Stag Survival Kit”. This contained:
– Stag Antlers, necessarily
– A tubey shot (to get him started, and also a little joke between us)
– Some rehydration packet drinks for recovery the next day
– A can of squirty cream (just to encourage misbehaviour)
Apparently I wasn’t the only person who had the idea of dressing Guy up, and it seems he ended up in fairy wings where they started in a pub:
A pink tutu, with a bottle of lambrini taped to his hand, during the punting:
And a Mexican (?) hat (!) in the Purple Turtle, or PT, the scummy cheap Union club (free entry for Union members), where he lost his stag antlers to a very drunk girl.
The next day, when I got him back, Guy couldn’t remember having any dinner, only that he was sure he’d had something for dinner, and he may not have paid for it himself – much like most or all of his drinks. We went to archery. He was still pissed. He lay on the grass in the sunshine and amused himself, whilst stinking of beer. Showering did not make it go away!
Photographs are courtesy of Guy’s brother, Harry.
Here is the crew:
Obviously with the best man and woman the “wrong” way round, we had mixed hens and stags.
Caz described the stag as “EPIC”.
For the hen, we were in Birmingham, and Guy once again went to Oxford: this time to do role playing with cecily.
I said I was quite keen on doing afternoon tea in the hen – but the lack of advance booking in local places resulted in us going to dine for a late lunch in the Museum cafe – a very nice place, but not exactly afternoon tea esque!
Then we all got into fancy dress and started drinking.
James arranged for Simon the Animal Man to come and show us exotic creatures. There were all sorts of reptiles, insects, bugs and feral furry things. We started out with a chinchilla on my head, and evolved to holding tarantulas (!). I’m only going to include a few photos here, as the number of animals we saw and held was ridiculous!
We then had a cocktail guy come to make us and teach us to make cocktails. I won a bottle of fizz for my cocktail making, which I found a few days later rolled under the dresser. We still haven’t opened it.