A hen. Sans plastic penises.My weekend looks like this:
- It's my beautiful friend Gemma's hen do in the fair city of Nottingham. I'm travelling down after work tonight for a weekend of cocktails, fancy dresses, high heels, a cabaret show and, most probably, a whole load of novelty plastic penises. If there aren't any plastic penises I might have to ask for my money back. I'm all about the plastic penis.
- A possible trip to Gay Pride in Manchester on Sunday, depending on who's about, whether I've stopped being sick after a night filled will alcohol abuse (hi, I'm British, it's what we do), and whether or not I can get enthused about paying £12 just to walk into the gay village. £12! To walk! On the streets! We always walk on! Tut.
- A glorious Bank Holiday Monday (for glorious read rainy) spent either nursing a sore head or creating more of a sore head. It's too early to say yet. I may devote the entire day to my duvet, some wine and some comedy programmes. Then again, probably not.
You can't recreate that intense feeling of happiness if you're on your own.
What lies in store for you, my lovelies?
