The Monday Muse. Stuffed Hen.

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Stuffed Hen.

I have reached the age where weddings and babies are a common occurrence amongst my friends, and so for the second time this year I find myself organising a ‘hen do’.

Whilst emailing prospective ‘hens’ my brain started to whirl and wonder, why the hell am I referred to as a ‘hen’?

The groom and his boisterous group of roisterers get to be called stags.

It made me think.

I want to be a sodding stag. A stag makes a great first impression. A stag is powerful. It’s proud. It’s got integrity, it’s got poise and it demands respect.

But as I paused for thought I asked myself, what is the point in lusting after unoriginality? Why set my sights on what the men have got?

So I have decided to go one better. I’m going with something magical, something mystifying, something that’s got grace and vigour by the bucketload, but is also shrouded in a superhuman, supernatural strength that no one can ever quite put their finger on.

When I get married, I’m having a fricking Unicorn Do.

 

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Much like my Monday pondering, The Daily Post is asking what sparks our ideas this week. This post was inspired by my whirring brain and a couple of the many eclectic treasures I have hidden around my home.

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Day 47.

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Sunshine filled days should come with a prerequisite that they entail food by the river and blabberings with girlfriends. Girls make the most exquisite of friends, as long as you wheedle out the good ones. The French know how to seduce one into thoughts of licking the plate. I always knew I was lunching lady material. #100happydays #day47