Henning

I've always viewed the stereotypical hen party - flashing L-plates, inflated condoms and screaming women who are old enough to know better - with a good pinch of disdain. What with the lack of time and the long list of other commitments, I was quite happy to give the hen night a miss and to hold a chicken party at some point in the summer, after dealing with the wedding, South Africa and moving house. My carefully laid plans were, however, upset by sixty or so teenage girls and their housemistress, who were all looking for a good excuse to let their hair down.

Last night was the appointed night. Although they did make me wear a flashing L-plate, they stuck it on my back, so my sensibilties weren't too offended; after all, out of sight, out of mind. I only really noticed it when I sat down on it. There was lots of food, cocktails, a chocolate fountain, and the sixth form girls had even arranged some strippers.* There were silly games, giant jenga, a limbo competition, and I impressed them with my performance in Fluffy Bunnies. All in all, it was a good night, if being at a party where the majority of people are under the legal drinking age can be classed as "good", and I dread to think what the photos are like!

* I spent most of this part of the evening with hands over my eyes going, "Nooooooooo!!". After all, I've got to teach most of strippers on Monday morning.