One of my best buds gets hitched in four weeks, and she (perhaps misguidedly) asked me to be a bridesmaid. Together with three others (two of whom are also mums, hello slap-dash organising team), we organised her a night away in Cardiff, the city she met her future husband (a bloody lovely Welshman).
There are certain stereotypes about mums on nights out, many of which I have personally taken issue with (please see my response to ‘How to spot a mum on a night out’ here). In this piece, I did state, quite clearly, that if I ever discovered that becoming a mum transformed me into a nightmare on a night out, I would publicly apologise. Please consider this my apology.
This is the story of my day…
10.12am: We board the train to Cardiff
10.13am: The first bottle of bubbles is popped
11.45am: Arrive in Cardiff. Some people still have their G&T tins in their goody bags. Others don’t.
12.10pm: Bags dropped at the hotel. Ready to paaaaartty.
1pm: Lunch is served. So is the wine.
2.30pm: Board the boat. More Prosecco is served.
(Actual footage from the party boat)
4pm: Enter another bar. I think.
6.30pm (maybe): Back to hotel, change, back out.
8pm (again, meh): Cocktails
8.30pm – 9pm: Arrive at dinner table. Head starts doing this.
9.30pm: Kind friend walks me back to hotel, tucks me into bed
2.15am: I wake up. Everybody is still out.
2.16am: I decide I need to rejoin the party. I leave the hotel for the second time feeling like…
2.30am: I enter the Welsh Club all…
Until 4am: The party is in full swing.
The result: I was hopefully forgiven for aforementioned #mumsgonewild behaviour.
Let this be a lesson to you all. Pace yourself, ladies.
And Becky, I promise not to behave this way at your actual wedding.