I’m sat here typing this with a whole flock of butterflys flitting around my tummy, and for me that really isn’t pleasant feeling as I am petrified of butterflys.
I’m getting the train home (again) tonight as this weekend is my ‘Hen Do’ and I have no idea what is being planned. All I know is that Sarah my Maid of Honour (I can’t bring myself to call her Matron of Honour, it conjures up too many images of Hattie Jaques) has something up her sleeve. I have my instructions to meet at midday at Darlington Station with an overnight bag.
And that is it.
I don’t know anything else at all.
I keep reassuring myself that it must be ok as my Mum is coming along for part of the weekend (she isn’t staying overnight though). I know that Sarah is well aware of my aversion to L plates and pink fluffy Stetsons. Why oh why do girls put themselves through the humiliation? It is just beyond me.
Plus I have the other worry…Ian is having his ‘Stag Do’ at the same time, but here in London. 12 guys are going to be staying in our postage stamp sized house drinking…. you see what I mean?
At least Ian vaguely knows the plan. They are going for a meal in Covent Garden, before hitting the casino in Leicester Square. They have an hours Roulette tuition and then they hit the tables. They all know Roulette, but if you take the tuition you gate to play without loosing money as betting is safe. He is under strict instructions not to bet the deeds to our house or the plane tickets for our honeymoon.
After I have typed this I am going to whizz around the house with the hover, and make it all look spick and span, have lunch and the nervously head up to Kings Cross.
Wish me luck girls!