Since my last blog entry a lot has happened. I have had my best friend’s hen night, the Hanbury Manor night before wedding, my husbands Birthday, my mum’s Birthday, the grooms Birthday, the wedding of the century and a very lumpy head!

I’ll start with the hen night which got off to a pretty bad start; the best laid plans and all that. The limo turned up to take all us hens and stags together to London armed with copious amounts of champers having already got tanked up to Singstar in the house beforehand, meant that 2 of the stags needed to pee on the way in a mission critical situation. The limo driver hearing the wincing pain in the back (when the girls cared enough to turn the music down), pulled up to the side of the road and the guys disappeared into someone’s garden with no sense of arrest. Whilst waiting for them in a crowded busy Thursday night City, what else would there be to do but for us girls to open the windows to attract some male attention from the pub overspill? Naturally we got the kisses required then managed to attract a real drunken weirdo (I think that may have been my fault, I am a dodgy geezer magnet), who thought he would catch a great opportunity to sell a bunch of drunk girls all the drugs he had sewn into the lining of his flashers jacket at a ‘good price’. By this point we were wishing the guys would hurry back so we could be on our way. Fortunately they did and whilst the limo began moving and abuse was hurled at the window, we hit another traffic jam. Great.

So we arrived at clubland hell and said goodbye to the guys as they merrily skipped to a seedy strip club or wherever it was they were going. I preferred not to know too many details, so we walked swiftly to our club as all of us were bursting for the loo at this point. It didn’t help that when we got there we had to walk up and down 5000 stairs at least 15 times as everyone who worked there had absolutely no clue which floor the restaurant was on. Pissed me off somewhat especially as some bird got really stroppy at the fact we had asked her a question, then started mumbling rudely not in English. Fortunately we were possibly the most multi-lingual hen party London has ever seen and a fellow hen gave her a mouthful back having understood what she said. Needless to say she soon shut up.

40 mins later we found the restaurant and took our seats. Myself and the other bridesmaid started to get a bit tetchy with the whole event so far and I noticed a speed dating session taking place at the other end of the bar and suggested we give that a go. What? I wasn’t getting married! So we walked over to see whether we could get ourselves in on the action, there were at least 6 married men in the lot that looked half decent! We were refused unfortunately as it was already underway and she had probably noticed that we too were already married, so that put a stop to the fun. Damn it!

The night proceeded fairly uneventfully until we were nearly kicked out for screaming at the top of voices that the live band were “totally shit” and should “go home”. OK in hindsight it probably was a bit harsh, but believe me it was warranted. When the band packed up, the dance floor was ours so up we went. Then some freaky guys thought they could join in (refer to my earlier point about attracting weirdos) and proceeded to try and bump and grind my arse which I didn’t appreciate, but nothing that a few ‘accidental’ elbows couldn’t solve and the dance floor was ours again. The night went on, then the escorts came in. Obviously prostitutes, the no clothes, too much make up and the old scabby ‘would never get any otherwise’ men gave it away. Why go to a club? Seriously, Soho is only 10 mins away, get a room. I don’t want to see it on a dance floor, didn’t you hear THE DANCE FLOOR IS OURS… Anyway, as interested as I certainly was to share my private space with saggy tittied, no bra prossies that seriously have no rhythm in their hips at all (they must be the bargain bin bunch), we did decide enough was enough and we would make a move to catch up with the blokes. Home we went to 3 hours sleep before starting the day prior to the wedding hassle, with responsibility, chores, hotel dashes and more champagne.

The wedding day itself was great. My friend went off to get her hair done at the hotel whilst I waited for my husband (Usher) to drop off the other bridesmaid so as we could get ready together. We faffed about a bit and then Mounia (Bride) comes back with her hair all lovely, the veil in and looking excited and fab hoping to come into a room of red carpet and salute, only to be greeted by me and Barbara screaming about our shoe crises, as neither of us could walk. Now what do we do? I know, my husband can drive all the way back to our house, rummage around the loft for my own wedding and previous maid of honour stuff and pull out some shoes from there. Great, then we will stop the wedding car on the way to grab the shoes and change before going in. We thought we looked very pro when we turned up, until everyone piled outside to catch a glimpse of the gorgeous bride in the car with her Dad only to see us two idiot bridemaids changing our shoes and passing our old ones through the vintage car windows! Tut.

Thinking that with the shoe crisis over we were off the hook, the bride's wrap broke. Ah, what do we do about that one? Her Dad took the pin out of his flower to patch up the wrap and had to put the flowers in his pocket. Another calamity diverted for us, but then hilarious wedding planner panic set in about this when she had to run around the farm looking for a pin, as the flowers "MUST be on the lapel". Whatever, they are still there. Who cares? After the paparazzi were finished with us and we were now seriously losing interest in the event altogether, they decided to let us go and get married. Phew.

The ceremony was fabulous, I fought back the tears and it went really well, except for us bridesmaids again when we pelted it down the isle unintentionally, forgetting that with our new found comfortable shoe freedom, the bride couldn’t walk that fast and was left behind. Oh well. Ceremony over the bride and groom walked out continental style to the Can Can of all things! It went down well with the French side of the family so it was quite amusing. Now the party can start!

Having stayed behind until the very end me being the Maid of Honour and my husband being the Usher a.k.a both best friends to the bride and groom, we were also forced to kiss goodbye to everyone, which I really love doing. Not. It was only the 4 of us staying in the hotel at the farm that night, so we went back to our rooms. We had a great night and in the morning went for breakfast with the happy couple only to find that their wedding night was somewhat disturbed. Mounia had bought some lovely surprise lingerie for the special night which was very sexy (I didn’t see it on her in case you’re wondering, just in the shop!), so she was hoping for a nice relaxing night in the 4 poster honeymoon suite. Only to be disrupted by a phone call from her Dad! I think it was intentional, but the story was that her mum had lost a diamond ring, so the groom was ordered out in the cold to go and see if he could find it. Oddly enough the ring was not lost after all and bride and groom were mightily peed! At least the honeymoon won’t go to waste!

Now an update on my dull headache situation, which I did get rid of for a while. It came back this week and then in the middle of the night last night I felt a lump in the back of my head. Slightly terrified that my brain may be falling out or a spider is nesting, I woke my husband up from a deep sleep (he looked so cute and comfy too….I really hated to wake him!), I put on all the lights and demanded he investigate my head. He felt it and told me it was probably a spot and rolled over and went immediately back to sleep again. Pleased for his genuine concern I stayed awake fretting about what it could be and how long I may have left to live. A SPOT, it covers most of my flipping head, surely it must be something much more serious than that. Well I hauled myself into work and told everyone about this tragic lump. There was more concern from colleagues in the office than I got from husband… exactly. Anyway, I left my lump, it is still there but less painful, so I will see whether the weekend (or husbands wallet) manages to clear it. Watch this space!