The rule of the Hen

I have french manicured fingernails and toenails and a pretty spectacular hangover! It is our downtime day today after some hot hen action from 08:00hrs yesterday until 03:30hrs this morning. As befits such an occasion we have instigated the rule of the hen – what happened on the hen stays on the hen although in a nutshell (or a fisheye *wink*) it involved starfish, a bad ass barracuda, rain, champagne, rum punch, drunken dinner karaoke, drinks penalties for stag communications, playboy boxers, Pink, the worm, the limbo, mozzies (eternally it seems out here!), fully clothed swimming, red wine on a surfboard, a stolen toastie and 6 very wet girlies stumbling home after the greatest day ever!

Flabs and I woke up this morning and hauled arse to breakfast at 8 before our bridesmaidly manicures and dress ironing only to be told by a sheepish Marms that she’d got the time wrong and our manicures weren’t until midday. So after a hearty post rum punch/champers/vodka/”tequila” shots/cuba libre breakfast I am not ashamed to say we went back to bed!


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