I had decided to go to Snowdonia. One of my very good friends has a family cottage nestled in the mountains which I always yearn to visit as often as I can - 'tis simply heaven and I couldn't have wanted to be anywhere else for my stag, in the end. Not for me a night out in Blackpool or a trip to Ibiza. Oh no. Give me the Withnail experience every time: A group of chaps holed up in a remote cottage for 4 nights with only a feral peacock, a field of timid-looking sheep, inadequate food supplies and copious amounts of alcohol for company.
Sadly, Stag#1 ended up being a total wash-out due a disagreement on how the night should progress. Basically, all but two of us wanted to spend the night in London, the rest wanted to drink in the Wetherspoons in High Wycombe. That was not really what I had in mind for my stag night out, to be honest.
|The wonderful cottage: "We've gone on holiday by mistake!"|
|Seeing dawn in with a bottle or two.|
Very little occurred until the arrival of the rest of the party on Friday evening, but that night saw the beginning of the Stag's legacy... my ruddy gout. Despite one friend arriving with a portable disco with lights and lasers and some raucous fun being had by all - I felt the need to stop drinking shortly after midnight as I could feel the tell-tale signs of Mr Gout beginning to stir in my knees.
And thus I became slowly more sober as those around me got more and more drunk. There's nothing more depressing than watching an impromptu conga snake it's way through a building when you are unable to join in. Ho-hum.
Saturday came with many hangovers. What better cure than by jumping into the freezing cold river half-naked? It was a stag weekend after all and a homo-erotic moment is fine in these circumstances of manly-bonding.
|Cold Water: Invigorating.|
|Off for the Elephant Hunt. Tsk Tsk.|
|Heathery Bogs: Not an approved Rambler's Association Route.|
|Rock Scramble: Daunting.|
|Dry Stone Wall: Falling Off|
So, we returned home to the cottage to find that the one left-behind member of the party had baked us all a Stag Crumble for our efforts. What more fitting end to a boisterous lads weekend away than a bit of plum crumble?
|Stag Crumble: A Manly Dessert (serve with cream).|