Gill is getting married and I was chuffed to be invited to the hen party which was in Magaluf. I’d never been to Majorca before and I am sure that I’ve still never actually seen the real Majorca.My first reaction though was “oh no, Lel can’t come as she’s just had Milo” and my second reaction was “oh no, I am probably far to old for this”. Fortunately the themed fancy dress this time was more than a grass skirt and a couple of coconut shells (as per Al’s hen party) and we got to cover up in airhostess outfits.
Well, I guess that all depends on how much vodka we can put away. StarBrian had advised Gill that he was glad she was sharing a room with me as I was “the sensible one” and I thought this a fair comment although it caused a few raised eyebrows amongst my family. Of course I am the sensible one. I am 36… ah hem, sorry, 31 years old. I am a married woman, with a mortgage and two cats. I have a financial advisor for goodness sake. How much trouble am I likely to get us in to?
ting in the airport at 7am, double vodka and coke. On the plane, two 250ml bottles wine. By the pool in the afternoon more vodka, out for an early dinner with cocktails then there is a blur into the evening of vodka redbulls by the jug and a multitude of apple sours shots.
Gill and I spent an age drunkenly setting up the safe in the room only to wake the next morning to find passports and camera next to the safe but my Boots advantage and Go Outdoors discount cards safely locked away. Actually we only knew that the cards were safely locked away after we spent an hour trying to find the key we had "cunningly" hidden from intruders the night before.
Only once did Gill appear in a bizarre mix and match outfit for the evening out (sorry for not noticing this Gill when we were getting ready) only to have a moment of sobriety in the bar and exclaim “what the **** am I wearing!!?!” and have to rush off and get changed again. And only once did Gill wake up to find my face down in the pillow wearing nothing but my undies and at the end of a trail of clothes from the bathroom to my unconscious body, and only once did she have to prod me to make sure I was still breathing.
In fact the rest of the weekend is a blur of vodka, shots, cocktails and burger king. I vaguely remember a bucking bronco whilst in a very short airhostess outfit. I vaguely remember back flips competitions into the pool after far too many vodka slushies. I vaguely remember buying a flammable looking ginger wig to wear with my hostess outfit. I vaguely remember a lot of things but more importantly I vaguely remember having a blast!
Although I am since convinced I am quite sensible perhaps others less so. And according to Al’s text to Lel afterwards “by the way, your sister’s mental!”… if you can’t beat ‘em Al, if you can’t beat ‘em….
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