Friendship, bacon butties and champagne

Isn't friendship great. Real, true, tell it like it is, stick through thick and thin, jump around in your pants, friendship.

One of my best friends is getting married this summer, on the second of August to be exact; the day after we share the day we were both born, same day, same year, and I'm loving the realisation that I'll be sharing one of the most important days of her life with her, and with our other very best friend - she used to be known, lovingly, as Wookie, (er, imagine a wookie that looks a little bit like julia roberts, well, had julia robert's family descended from an exotic land surrounded by beautiful clear lagoons... for a hint: 20°5, 57.5E) and occasionally still is. But for now, let's refer to her as Mrs B.

We've all known each other since we were about 17, but those barely two years together in six form where defining. And although for a while, (say, about 3 years) we didn't see or hear a hair from each other - and this was not with out the keen, and kind, efforts of Mrs B to get things back together (see, a true mate) - when you finally get back in the loop with your nearest and dearest, it's like one of you just popped to the shops.

Mrs B and I have begun planning the hen weekend for our fabulous friend.

Isn't it ironic that our best friend was once one of the wildest childs we knew, a proper, bonefide, devil may care, watch me while I sizzle, rebel. But she's always had a heart of gold - and was, and is, the best kind of fun imaginable.

Now, she's still got all that fire inside of her, but she turned out to be the most ladylike of all of us - cultured, smart, and one of those lucky people who can make an entire room light up with one easy, dry remark. She's also turned out to be somewhat of an authority figure, which I personally think is fantastic, (and hilarious, considering what we used to get up to at 18) and makes me smile from ear to ear. Let's refer to her as Audrey.

So we're in the middle of hen weekend planning, trying to come up with something unique and classy, without forgetting the cheeky streak of fun. And it's surprising - when you get away from the L plates, pink cowboy hats and condoms that so many people seem to feel have to go hand in hand with British hen nights, it's amazing what you can do.

And Mrs B totally excels as suporama matron of honour; she's come up trumps with simple, glam yet personal ideas, that'll make a weekend for us to remember and laugh about for a long, long time to come. (Til we're old and slightly smelly, I'm hopin'.)

Now I'm afraid I can't share any more details than this, (and maybe the clues in the title...) as the last thing I'd want is for her to realise what our plans are.

And it's on this note that I realise just how much I'm looking forward to seeing the new Sex and the City movie - it surprises me as I can normally take it or leave it with this kind of thing, but having caught up with most of series 3 and 4 again on Paramount Comedy recently, I'm chomping at the bit for sharp frocks, and even sharper lines.

Just wish I had the girls in the neighbourhood to enjoy it with... (Why can't we all live in the same county, just for a change!)

So yes, friendship, the truest variety, is definitely the best.

Night night.

(P.S. click on the title of this blog post to be whisked directly to the Sex And The City official movie site - a great site design which reveals some rather intriguing photos of the girls - mind the cheesy/trite music choice though, what were they thinking when they signed that deal; must have been money involved somewhere...)