It was the first time I'd been on a non-family holiday for a long time - a hen weekend in the Norfolk Broads. I only knew four people out of the sixteen going. I'm the only one out of said-sixteen who doesn't drink (alcohol, not anything at all, otherwise I'd be dead, obviously). I was still sleep-deprived after the Moonwalk (click here to sponsor - you know you want to). Fancy dress and 'organised fun' were on the itinerary. I was sharing a room with someone who once gave me an egg (unboiled, sadly) for a Secret Santa present. I was scared.
I needn't have been. The sixteen were a brilliant bunch of ladies (as Hen's Sister said, 'there's usually one b**ch' but this time there really wasn't) and everyone got on well. The alcohol wasn't an issue, as it seems drunkenness is catching. 'Organised fun' was actually fun, and fancy dress even fun-er. Roommate did not give me any more eggs (although they were involved in the organised fun) and even provided temptation by wearing an eye-mask at night. I'm still sleep-deprived, but you can't have everything.
Our group was split across two apartments in Wroxham, eight in each.
Our apartment, Waterside, was designed to look like an upside-down boat, and boasted an en-suite to
each room as well as an extra bathroom upstairs (five toilets between eight
people seems less of an extravagance than you might think bearing in mind the amounts of food and
alcohol consumed). As our apartment had the largest living area, we all
congregated there for our first evening of 'organised fun'. After a quick game
of 'Would You Rather' (live without Internet or never go on a plane again? I'm
still agonising over this), we moved on to 'Two Truths and a Lie'. We found out
many things about each other, most involving poo or wee, and sadly everyone
wrongly believed I'd once been mounted by a goat. On the other hand, anyone who
knew anything about one particular attendee (from here on known as Little Miss Clumsy) had
no trouble picking out 'running over a stranger's suitcase' as a truth. The
laughs continued with a 'special' game of Pass the Parcel, with a forfeit
between each layer. I felt I'd got off lightly being wrapped in toilet roll
like a mummy when other forfeits included gargling the National Anthem, dancing
suggestively to the rustling of a plastic bag and several rounds of
egg-on-forehead roulette (nothing to do with Roommate this time). No huge surprise
that Little Miss Clumsy ended up with egg on her face...
The following morning saw us out on the boats for the first time. They held a maximum of eight people each, although there was seating for more, making them feel fairly spacious. Special 'Little Miss' T-shirts were originally part of the plan (Little Miss Clumsy was going to be 'Little Miss Late' - missed opportunity!), but in the end we opted for a white T-shirt and veil for Hen and black T-shirts for the rest of us. If anyone was in any doubt that we were a hen party, the special 'funglasses' provided by Hen (mine were fab gold guitars, while others included pineapples and palm trees) gave it away. We soon got into the swing of things, singing at the tops of our voices, waving madly at every boat we passed and generally getting a bit merry. Much to my disappointment (sadistic - moi?), no one actually fell in, despite letting Little Miss Clumsy drive (steer? captain?) the boat for a while. The general plan was to motor along the Broads until we came to a pub, at which point we'd get out and have a drink and maybe lunch. What actually happened was a sitcom-esque farce of getting out at one pub and then getting back in the boats as soon as we'd bought drinks, as it was raining and there was nowhere to sit inside; getting out at the next pub and finding seats, only to find the extractor fan in the kitchen was broken, it was 120 degrees and they weren't legally allowed to cook food; getting back in the boat to go back to the first pub, only to find out there was a carvery in the second pub and we could eat there after all; getting back out of the boats to go and eat at the carvery, just to find out that all the seats were already reserved; and giving up and buying all the Cornish pasties, sausage rolls and crisps in the pub, only to hear the extractor fan was fixed and they were serving food again.
Back in the apartments, we prepared for our night out of curry and karaoke. Unbeknown to Hen, Hen's Sister had prepared us for a game of Bridezilla - namely dressing up Hen in various 'interesting' items of clothing bit by bit as the evening went on. As discussions ensued about what counted as 'going out-out' clothes and Hen decided to top off her outfit with the tasteful veil she had worn on the boat that day, I cringed as I visualised what she'd actually look like by the end of the evening. To be fair, I'm not sure any visualisation could have prepared us for the end result, as items included fairy wings, a green flashing veil, glow-stick glasses and a green furry bra with sunflowers (I knew that Moonwalk bra would come in handy again one day).
We ate in the very lovely Rishi restaurant in Norwich and, apart from the clothes, I thought we were remarkably well-behaved for a hen party. The waiters were polite and helpful, so we can't have annoyed them too much, and the other diners looked on with amusement rather than disgust. The signal for the adornment of Hen was the tapping of a glass, and I know what we'll all be thinking now during the toasts at Hen's actual wedding. The last item to go on before leaving the restaurant was a pair of knickers, cunningly decorated with rude words and pictures. The donor had kindly brought along three pairs to choose from, so it was democratically decided that Little Miss Clumsy and Hen's Sister, the bridesmaids, should wear the other two. I actually felt slightly more sorry for them - at least with Hen, the comedy glasses, bra and feather boa made it obvious she was in fancy dress. But dressing up normally for a night out, with just a glimpse of knickers over the jeans... not so much.
As we entered the pub - The Brickmakers - and got a few second glances, Hen began to look uncomfortable. 'I think this is a local pub for local people,' she whispered. I can't imagine why she would feel conspicuous. It actually turned out to be one of the friendliest pubs I've ever been to. The atmosphere at the karaoke was surprisingly supportive, with everyone cheering everyone else on. To be fair, everyone sounded so damn professional - even those hens who got up and sang (or rapped and danced to 'Ice Ice Baby', in the case of Little Miss Clumsy and Hen's Sister) - that you couldn't help but clap and cheer. I decided not to let the side down with a tone-deaf rendition of 'White Wedding'. The fun stopped for an hour to watch the Foo Fighters live at Norwich on the big screen (the hen weekend coincided with Radio 1's Big Weekend). I thought I quite liked the Foo Fighters, but after an hour of listening to the same song over and over again (they were all different, apparently, but I'm not convinced), I'm not so sure. Luckily, the karaoke continued afterwards, and the highlight of the evening was Graham, a little old man who'd been sitting at the bar, belting out a surprising classic - never did I think I'd end the evening dancing to an old man in a Christmas jumper singing Kings of Leon's 'Sex on Fire'...
The next day, our boat adventures were spiced up with the addition of fancy dress. The theme was a moment in history, and the interpretations were varied. Along with another hen, I chose 20s style, a costume that has now been recycled for several different occasions. Other costumes included 60s, 80s, WW2, a Victorian bather, a pirate and a passenger on the Titanic (that was Little Miss Clumsy, appropriately). Hen's Sister made us all laugh by dressing as Conchita Wurst, winner of Eurovision 2014, made even funnier by the fact that, without the Austrian flag to provide the context, she was simply a woman with a beard. Hen dressed comfortably as Freddie Mercury, complete with moustache - it would seem the sisters have a liking for facial hair (evidence also includes Hen's preference for funglasses with an attached moustache).
As we stepped onto the boats in our finery, I started to empathise with how Hen and the bridesmaids must have felt the night before. Still, once we got out on the Broads with all the other dressed-up people, it would be fine - after all, 'There's loads of groups in fancy dress on the Broads,' said Hen's Sister as she planned the itinerary. Although, come to think of it, I didn't remember having seen anyone in fancy dress the day before, unless you counted Hen's veil. And, other than one pirate hat and a small child in a penguin costume, we didn't see anyone else in fancy dress that day either. As we continued to wave madly at every passing boat and they simply gave us derisive looks, we wondered where the jolly atmosphere from the day before had gone. Surely my flapper dress and feathers, Roommate's luminous earrings and Little Miss Clumsy's Edwardian outfit and small cardboard Titanic were worth waving at? After a stop at the pub and a few more drinks on the boat, we didn't care. We waved even more madly at those people who looked grumpy and were rewarded with the appearance of a blow-up doll on a stag-party boat. We soon resorted to singing a variety of Queen songs as loudly as we could, not to mention the theme from Titanic, while Little Miss Clumsy re-enacted the final scene from the film by lying on the floor of the boat clutching onto a cushion. Good times...
Upon mooring back at Wroxham, Hen spotted a little girl doing cartwheels in the pub garden and, for reasons unknown, decided it would be a good idea to join in. This, I might add, was despite having a broken finger (nothing to do with the hen weekend, believe it or not). The first cartwheel was fairly successful, at which point the little girl began to demonstrate her prowess with a series of cartwheels and Arab springs. By this point, Roommate had decided to video the goings on, while I started muttering about child protection and looking around for the girl's parents, sure they might have us arrested - or at least beat us up - for taking videos of their child without their permission. Amidst shouts from Roommate of 'Little girl! Little girl! Do another one for the camera!', Hen also decided to oblige, finishing it with a rather spectacular fall sideways, somewhat reminiscent of Delboy in the infamous Only Fools and Horses episode. Luckily, at this moment I spotted Little Girl's parents, laughing at a table nearby, seemingly unconcerned that their daughter was being filmed by a bunch of drunk women. But I guess it would still be unethical to send the video to You've Been Framed - shame, 'cos that'd be a guaranteed £250 right there.
After the acrobatics, we decided to visit Roys. If you've never been to Wroxham, you might be asking 'Who's Roy?' But if you have, you'll be asking 'Which Roys?' (and the answer is most of them). Wroxham appears to be owned by Roy, and we spent large amounts of the weekend wondering who he is. There is a Roys department store, Roys clothes, Roys supermarket, Roys food hall, Roys garden centre, Roys toys, Roys children's centre (this doesn't actually sell children but neither does it sell toys, so we never figured out quite what it did sell), Roys pet store and Roys DIY (and possibly others we didn't discover). Shopping in fancy dress, we soon discovered, is an interesting experience. Staff in Roys department store eyed us suspiciously as soon as we entered the store - I can't imagine why. Perhaps it was the added fact that the alcohol consumed on the boat was leading people to stagger a little (my heels were doing the same thing to me). Or perhaps it was when Hen, aka Freddie, grabbed a hoover and started singing 'I Want to Break Free'. Fearing we were about to be thrown out, we moved across to Roys supermarket, where the staff were altogether more friendly, even when Little Miss Clumsy asked for three shillings and sixpence cashback. The chatty staff in Roys toys assured us you do usually see groups in fancy dress in Wroxham and we were just unlucky, but I think she was just trying to be kind. After all, the looks we were getting from most people who passed us did suggest they'd never seen a 20s flapper girl chatting to Freddie Mercury before. Incidentally, we found out that 'Roy' was actually two nineteenth-century brothers, Alfred and Albert Roy, who opened a village store nearby in 1895. We were kind of disappointed.
The original plan for that evening was a Mary Whitehouse Experience DVD marathon (for those not of a certain age, this was a 90s comedy show, which launched the careers of David Baddiel, Hugh Dennis, Steve Punt and... whatever happened to Rob Newman?), but Hen forgot to bring it. We decided instead on a game of Trivial Pursuit, or perhaps some more 'organised fun', but once we'd eaten our Thai takeaway (from the lovely and very accommodating Yim Siam Thai Restaurant) and had an obligatory drink at the pub, we were all too tired and instead headed back to our rooms for an early night. At our age, one big night out was enough.
The following morning, we were up early - a quick tidy-up and you'd never have guessed a hen party had occupied our lovely apartment. I was sad to leave Waterside, but it was made easier by the fact that Little Miss Clumsy and I had decided to come back with our families next year (for a somewhat different type of holiday!). It was sad saying goodbye to all the fab new friends I'd made too, but now I'm really looking forward to the fun of the wedding, and seeing Hen waltz down the aisle complete with 'tache...
*Disclaimer: For reasons of confidentiality, only scenic or distant photos have
been used, and names have been cunningly disguised to protect the guilty.
