The shrill but infectious sound of over-excited thirty somethings reunited after an 18 month hiatus.

“Are we hugging!? Oh go on, shur aren’t we sharing a room we might as well hug!“

They needed this more than they realised.

“Right, we have three rooms, who’s with who?“

They pair off, bound for the lift, wheelie bags and vanity cases in tow. Not a heel in sight, this is more of a Converse affair.

“Okay now girls dinner is at 8, I don’t mean 8 for half 8, I mean 8!”

Totally should have said 7.30 but anyways…

Bottles start popping as soon as the doors close.

Phones are abandoned except for the odd selfie.

An explosion of clothing takes over the twin beds.

The pristine bathroom already looks like a college dorm…

The chatting, the giggling, the “You never told me that!”

Compliments are flying, and shot down just a swiftly… “Well if you saw me before Christmas now I looked way better than this…”

Knocks on the door.

“Come in come in! Ye look great! OMG that DRESS! You did not curl your hair that quick? Here sit down I’m almost ready…”

The first of many toasts of the evening.

Nobody cares that the prosecco is tepid, ice can be gotten later.

The excitement and pure happiness is palpable in the room.

Friends reunited.

No amount of technology can replace this.

And no amount of Pandemic can break it either.

“Jesus we better make a move!”

“At least we don’t need a taxi to go downstairs!”

Menus are glanced at carelessly as the conversation dashes across the table.

“Sorry yes two more minutes please! We will look properly this time!”

“Right girls are we wining or no? A few nice cocktails on the menu but shur you couldn’t be paying for them all night!”

Pinot it is for now so… better make it 3 bottles, save us asking again after the starter…

Nobody cares how long the food takes. The bread basket gets cursed… and emptied just as quickly…

Eating, chatting, laughing, howling, tears rolling for better or worse as the Pinot takes hold.

This is what they have all waited so long for.

They must soak it up.

The hangover is tomorrow’s problem.

Like a bunch of 8 year olds they gather again in PJ’s a few hours later. Make up looking worse for wear from the laughing, all piled in to the small messy room, it’s not time for bed yet.

Spotify on someone’s phone, who needs niteclubs anyways!

The ice machine is working hard.

The bathroom glasses make decent flutes when needs be.

“Dear God it’s 3 o’clock! We better turn in!“

The hangover is today’s problem now!

“Don’t forget the paracetamol & pint glass girls!”

Be grand. Totally worth it.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Love it!!hope it’s a non-fiction entry!!🥰🥰


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