My beloved and I can make two proud boasts. Neither of us has ever changed a nappy, and neither of us has ever been to a hen/stag party. Admittedly, when we got married many years ago, hen/stag nights were usually fairly tame affairs. I spent the night before my wedding enjoying dinner with my family in a nearby Italian restaurant while my beloved waited anxiously at home in London with his parents before setting off early the following morning to the church in the Midlands.
It has to be said that neither of us enjoys drinking copious amounts of alcohol and, if I’m honest, neither of us could’ve afforded a hen/stag do back then. A lot of our friends, particularly those from university, got married at around the same time and were similarly strapped for cash. When our respective siblings got hitched, they had hen/stag parties but I can’t recall whether we were invited. In any event, we didn’t go.
The subject reared its head because my beloved’s nephew is getting married next month and he’s just had his stag do, a three-day
bender weekend in Prague. My brother-in-law went along, largely to keep an eye on his younger son who has Asperger’s. Neither of them seemed to particularly enjoy the event and my brother-in-law wasn’t impressed by the hi-energy evening event which he said had been provided by Calvin Klein.
“I think you’ll find that was Calvin Harris,” said my beloved, keen to score points! However, it seemed a shame to spend so much money on an event that neither of them really enjoyed. The nephew was ritually humiliated by his mates who were, no doubt, just getting their own back. No mention of the architectural splendours of Prague but maybe they didn’t feature on the trip!
The nephew’s partner is having a Brittany-themed weekend in Blackpool which my sister-in-law has (wisely) declined to attend. This frankly sounds equally horrendous. My header photo assumes the two events swapped places and my beloved’s nephew had to dress up as Brittany!
I get the impression that the hen/stag dos, along with the weddings, are part of some sort of competitive game where each successive couple tries to outdo one another. Personally, we find it all rather sad and pointless, but then maybe it’s just us.
“What about the nappies?” I hear you cry. That’s far easier to explain. We’re childless from choice and we generally steer well clear of children until they’re potty trained and can communicate a bit.