When I get invited to hen parties they involve party gift sets involving feather boas and older women – sisters-in-law making every sort of fecking innuendo going.
I was at one that was based in Clonakilty once. WIth the silly penis straws and all that jazz. Can’t really see the attraction.
But I horrified them. Clon is not too far away from Inchydoney – so on both mornings of the weekend, I got up and went surfing.
They were shocked. Particularly on Sunday because they all had hangovers and were moaning about ending up in the bar in the rugby club. The idea that someone might be insane enough to get up at 9am on Sunday morning and go surfing for two hours – and Christ I am a lousy surfer anyway – was completely outside their ken. They couldn’t understand it.
So I’m a bit wary of hen parties because I drink precious little, can’t function past 1am and generally like doing stuff rather than suffering hangovers. Today I find out that some people have hen parties in the climbing wall in Dingle.
I uhem….
need to consider the people I hang out with.
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