We’re not in Reading anymore

2 October, 2009

We were woken up early by a determined and hardly-hungover-at-all maid-of-honour, and loaded up the car with all our stuff.

No problem: Legendary Capacity Of Small Cars

It's all going to fit, right?

Abi drove, Jane tormented entertained us with a selection of cheese*, and as we pulled onto the M40 it dawned on Charlotte that the hen celebration proper was not to be held in Reading after all. Many miles later we pulled in to Sketchley Grange Hotel and Spa.

I’d not been to a spa before. They have a swimming pool. Swimming pools still bring out my inner seven year old, and my inner seven year old *really* likes swimming. Er, I’m sorry if I splashed you :$

They also have a steam room and a sauna**. Both of these, I conclude, are places in which you could trap James Bond and Expect Him To Die. The steam room is like pleasantly drowning, but the sauna is a good place for talking nonsense until you overheat and have to stagger out again.

After dinner, Jane surprised Charlotte with a pyjama party in her hotel room. To save all involved, present and absent, from embarrassment, I will say only that what happens at pyjama party stays at pyjama party 😉

* There was Abba. To be fair, she played an Abba Medley in order to get this requirement out of the way with the minimum of agonised groaning on my part.

** Try New Stuff™ 🙂


One comment

  1. ** It’s an emotional moment when your new year’s resolution packs up his trademark symbol and finally leaves home. Try New Stuff: I shall miss you. Don’t forget to phone!

    Luckily, he was one of seven 🙂

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