Friend, I love you…
… but please don’t inflict your hen party on me
I went to my first hen party when I was twenty-five years old.
It was for a friend from university who was the first in my friendship group to tie the knot.
Her hen party set the standard for everyone else’s.
As it was the first, people were excited about it and were happy to make it into a BIG event. Especially as most of the rest of our friendship group at that time were single, or at least not tied down by partners/children/family responsibilities/mortgages, etc.
So we were well up for a weekend in Bath in a big fancy townhouse when the bridesmaid suggested it as a possibility.
We got the train up from London on Friday night and went straight out on the town. The next day we went to the baths, had lunch, did a spot of shopping, went out for dinner, and then on to a cocktail-making class, followed by clubbing.
On Sunday morning we went out for brunch and then made our way home.
The Bill
It was only when I got back to London and totted everything up that I realised that I’d spent around £400 on that two-night trip.
- £80 return train ticket.
- £100 accommodation for an eight bedroomed, four bathroomed townhouse in Bath for two nights.
- £30 entry for three hours in the baths.
- £50 lunch and dinner out.
- £15 brunch on Sunday.
- £30 cocktail-making party.
- £50 on drinks.
- £45 to chip in for the bride’s expenses, since the bride never pays for her own hen party.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time, but at that point in my life, that was more than half of my disposable income for the month gone in two single days.
I ate a lot of beans on toast that month.
That was almost ten years ago, and it’s safe to say that prices have not got any cheaper.
Since then I have been to five other hen parties, and every single one has cost at least that amount, if not more, since when it gets to their turn, everyone wants to match the fun, effort, glamour and excitement of previous hen dos.
I have another one coming up in the summer, and what with the cost of living crisis in the UK and prices going up globally for everything while my salary has stayed stubbornly the same, I cannot believe that I have agreed to go, because things are tighter now than they have been for a while.
Why did I say that I wanted to go, I hear you ask?
I wouldn’t even dare to say no. It’s for one of my best and oldest friends. I want to be there. I want to celebrate her and be excited for her big day. I want her to have the attention that she deserves since she’s been such a good friend to me for so many years. And if I didn’t go, I think she’d be pretty sad. So I’m going.
I just wish it wasn’t so bloody expensive.
It doesn’t have to be — it could just be one evening, not two, it could be in a less glamorous location, we could each make a dish instead of eating out for every meal, we could create our own activities rather than paying for expensive “experiences”.
But then it wouldn’t be considered as good as previous hen dos and my friend might feel like we haven’t put in as much effort for hers as we have for all of the others.
When I tried to even make a suggestion of doing something a little bit more low-key, I was shot down within seconds.
So off it is I go.
Good job I like beans on toast.
