Hen party

Is there anything more notorious for loss of taste, dignity and perhaps consciousness than English hen parties? The phrase brings images to mind of rowdy bunches of drunk girls in embarrassing outfits, mooning anything that lives, freely distributing products that previously inhabited the digestive system wherever it may be convenient... not a pleasant sight. Fortunately, there are also classy Brits who get married. And we have one in the School: Jessie, an all-round micropalaeontologist, about to tie the knot with Adam, her historian fiancé. She's not one for shocking the already jaded public with debauchery and exhibitionism. And she wisely organised her own hen do.

The plan was as follows: gather a bunch of girls at Canonteign country park, take a walk along the famous waterfalls, have a picnic, go home, change into something elegant, have dinner in town, and then see how long the night will last in the Gin Distillery and whatever other venue would be of the bride in spe her fancy. So we did! One of the ladies expected at Canonteign was Maria, who would bring 15 month old Rosa, and who consequently would be a bit late. What to do with the time? There were 3 signposted walks to be done, and we would manage the 15 minute one before Maria's ETA. And soon we found out the only way of taking 15 minutes for that walk would be to have a 15 month old with you, to whom you wish to point out all waterfowl and their offspring, imitating their non-verbal utterings on the way. But we still lacked that 15 month old. We had become a bit suspicious of the alleged one hour walk along the waterfall...

After the 5 minute walk several of the girls could not contain themselves anymore, and invaded th playground. Swings, and trampolines! Only for kids, but well, aren't we all still kids in a way. And then Maria arrived. The original plan was to do the walk first, but many were already hungry, so we changed that. And we laid out the most extensive and responsible picnic in a long time! Several recognised the coupled X chromosomes in this display of olives, fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, falafel, and more of these oestrogene foods. Stereotypical, but very enjoyable. Rosa was so kind as to improve the mood even further by wandering around mischievously and sticking her feet into a bowl of fruit in cream. And we managed to eat more than half of the food!

The sister of the bride popping the champagne

We then did some more running to the cars and back, and embarked on the anticipated walk. It’s a walk though the romantic garden of some Victorian nobleman with all strange quirks that come with Victorian nobility; the waterfalls that attract all tourists are man-made. Redundant miners diverted a stream and built the leat the water drops from. Somewhere along the walk you also come across a fern garden; another remnant from that time. But it’s a pretty walk, with both natural and cultural historic features, and soon we reached the top. They really were not at all ashamed of that waterfall being a folly; no attempt is made to make it look natural. It does provide a good background for hen do pictures. We just doodled around a bit, admired the view, chatted away, admired Rosa’s bad hair day and her flirtations with the young dog we had with us. As you do.

The falls it is all about

Shamelessly artificial!

The fern garden

We were almost back at the entrance when Jessie’s sister, a responsible mother, started screaming “a zip wire, a zip wire!!” It was clear this toy would not escape the abuse of some unruly adults. She ignored the signs designating the equipment to children and went on it. And again! It was a very fast one! I tried too. And Sam. And Heather. And Lauren. And Maria. With adult weight that thing went like lightning, catapulting you into the air at the end. Contemplate child obesity and picture what it would do to an expanded 12-year-old! But not relevant now. We had lots of fun, until Maria gave it a try, and Rosa burst out in bitter tears seeing her mother shot meters into the air and coming down hard. I had been having fun taking burst shots of these adventures, but lying down in stinging nettles for that purpose was not such a smart move. So startled and stung we retreated for a tea. Back to behaviour fit for our age!

While we had tea the topic of outfits for the night came up. Luckily! I had naively assumed people would show up in jeans. Au contraire! Glamorous dresses were on everybody’s mind. So when we came back to Plymouth I had 3 hours to write a conference report and bring out my inner lady. It was not going to be my best prepared attempt! As the weather was very hot I couldn’t be asked wearing something bulky or restrictive, which automatically means my blue dress. I have a nose stud that matches it! But I had worn that dress only once before, in a borrowed bra and with earrings of which I had lost one, so both regarding underwear and jewellery I had to think quick. I just did without a bra and the one earring, and hoped nobody would notice. Writing this I am by the way curious how many people raise an eyebrow at seeing me write several sentences at these issues. This is only the beginning; I think I should upgrade my wardrobe plus what comes with it! Bring the femininity on.


Dressed as casually as anything I biked to the restaurant. I immediately sneaked off into the toilets, and came out all ladylike. I was ready for action! And that didn’t keep me waiting: the others arrived too, and we had a nice dinner, except for the lady on my left: they had forgotten her order, then served her something completely different, and then something right but cooked entirely wrong. She gave up. But beside that it was good. And I went home, as I needed to do all sorts of things before the imminent Norway fieldwork, but the wilder ladies partied on until 4 in their glamorous dresses. I hope this will have catapulted Jessie in the direction of married life in a most satisfying way!

Jessie the soon-to-be bride (right) and Sam

Me with a niece of the groom