Despite suffering from a brutal cold (most likely passed on to me from Paul), I spent this past weekend in East Lothian at the Wintonhill Farmhouse - which is part of the huge Winton Estate. Along with my friends Kate and Lauren, I had been invited to attend our friend, Erica's, bachelorette party weekend (known in Scotland as Hen nights). Kate, Lauren, and I (along with Erica) formed our party posse of 12 and despite such a large number, the stunning farmhouse did not feel crowded at all. The farmhouse was absolutely beautiful, situated amongst rolling hills, fields, and trees in the midst of changing into autumnal colours.
Of course, I forgot to bring my camera.
Nevertheless, Kate managed to remember to bring her film camera (I think Kate is single-handedly responsible for keeping disposable cameras and film processing companies afloat in Glasgow), so no doubt there will be photos as soon as she remembers to process her Kodak camera.
Kate, Lauren and I arrived late Friday night, after getting lost somewhere between Edinburgh and Dalkeith, to a fully-stocked farmhouse - which had now closely resembled an Oddbins from the vast amount of wine; the mud room had even been temporarily transformed into a wine cellar. Perfect. I had to remember, however, to be on my best behaviour as the Bride and Groom's Mothers were in attendance, which was easy enough as I was feeling like I had been hit by the bird flu bus.
After sniffing and coughing my way through Friday night, I woke up around 8.15am on Saturday morning and made my way downstairs, where I was met by the bride-to-be (she was picking her cousin up at the airport).
Erica stared at me, "how did you manage to sleep?!"
Thinking she was referring to my mucus-stuffed head and chest, I replied "fine..."
In disbelieve, Erica blinked a couple times, "No. I mean, how on EARTH did you manage to sleep through the 5 fire trucks and sirens?!!!"
"THE BARN WAS ON FIRE LAST NIGHT AND FIVE TRUCKS ARRIVED AROUND 5am!"
Holy shit, I thought, that's some party.
Turns out, however, that Erica's Mom woke up to the sound of crackling and looked at the window - to find the barn on fire. Apparently neighbours had spotted the huge blaze and called the fire brigade as well, who quickly arrived on the scene.
After recounting the early mornings events, Kate and Lauren soon wandered downstairs. Erica informed us that at least two fire trucks (and fire men!) were still outside controlling and investigating the blaze and giggling like a bunch of school girls, we grabbed our bathrobes and wellies (huge rain boots), provided by the Winton Estate owners, and headed outside to check out the fire and what was left of the barn.
Quickly pulling on our gear and grabbing a cup of tea, we set outside into the warm morning sun. As the three of us headed towards the barn, the group of about 10 firemen looked on confused. Most stopped what they were doing and crowded around us. One of the more cheeky fire men took us by the elbow and informed us that our sauna was now ready.
Where had we come from, they asked. We told them we were staying in the farmhouse for the weekend. After eying our cups of tea, we offered to make them tea and coffee, which they duly accepted. And so, the three of us skipped back to the house to make tea and coffee for about 10 firemen. While everyone else slept.
About 10 minutes later, we headed back out with a tray of cups, two bodums of coffee, and a tea pot. All the while without a stitch of make-up, in our wellies, bathrobes and glasses. Pictures to follow soon.
Saturday afternoon, we headed to Rosslyn Chapel, which was absolutely breath-taking and fascinating. Now, having avoided both the Da Vinci Code book and film, I had no idea that the chapel was featured in both. That accounts for the large crowd of tourists and eye-liner abusing goths. By the way, why must goths have such a limited sense of fashion and style? How come there are rarely any tanned and blond goths?!
Saturday night concluded with a drinking game, catered dinner, murder mystery and of course, drinking! And yet, somehow Lauren and I managed to wake up at 8.15am (again) on Sunday to clear away the booze and wine glasses and wash them all.
Last night, I went to see Ani Difranco and Paul, being such a great boyfriend, came along with me. Initially he was reluctant but secretly, I think he relished being among a sea of (mostly gay) women.
Ani Difranco is an artist that I always make a point of seeing when she comes through town. Even though I have probably seen her about 8 times live, I have never gotten bored or disappointed by her. Even if I was on my death bed (which I felt a little bit like last night), I would make the effort to see her; bitch is that good!