When you’re a hen, the world seems to revolve around you. If you’re the kind of person who doesn’t like being the centre of attention, you probably won’t like it.
It’s sort of hard to fade into the background when you’re wearing a veil and tiara combo and a silver sash with the words ‘bride-to-be’ emblazoned on them.
Not that I’m complaining mind you – I loved every single minute.
I am beyond impressed with my friend Emma, who planned the whole thing – the attention to detail was amazing.
She’d stocked up on my favourite drinks – Martini blanco and Pacharan – for the down time when we had to get ready at her flat. And even invested in a CD of 100 Eighties hits for us to listen to.
There were even little Union Jack flags on my sash – just in case there was any doubt as to what nationality we all were.
Thankfully there were no phallus-shaped accessories, L Plates or strippers. It all felt very classy – even when we were fully on the rampage out in town at four in the morning.
We even managed to stumble across a group of French stags in the same club. As I chatted away to the groom you could see the look of confusion on some people’s faces – one passer by stopped to ask me why on earth I would have my hen party in the same place as my future husband was having his bachelor party!
I’ve never had so many nice chats and comments from total strangers. Even people singing wedding marches and shouting “viva la novia” was kind of nice.
Some people didn’t get it at all though. “Are you celebrating something?” One guy asked.
“No, I dress like this all the time,” I told him, to which he answered: “Oh, right, OK,” before wandering off.
It wasn’t all rampaging around town, though. On Saturday day, after a lovely picnic at the picturesque Templo de Debod, the biggest surprise of the weekend was a session of laughter therapy.
It was absolutely brilliant. If you’ve never played el gato tonto or been a tree while all your friends are butterflies, you haven’t lived. At one point we’d attracted an audience of about 20 Japanese tourists and two police cars – we must have looked like a right bunch of weirdos.
I can’t imagine having more fun in one weekend – surely being a hen must be a taster of what’s to come on the big day?
As the weekend was drawing to a close the girls gave me the most wonderful present – a book filled with pictures of us all together and the most lovely messages.
Me – being me – I couldn’t help shed a tear.
I am so lucky to be surrounded by so many amazing people in my life – I don’t know what I would do without my gorgeous friends.
So thanks so much to all my Madrid hens – you made it the most special weekend ever.