What do you do when you realise you’ve accidentally booked you and your boyfriend onto an 18-30s-style clubbing holiday? This was the question I was faced with earlier this year. After our gaw-juss holiday to Santorini last year, this year we decided to book somewhere a bit more cheap’n’cheerful (that house deposit isn’t going to fund itself, after all)(but, whyyyy?) and with a bit more of an atmosphere in the evening.
And thus, we ended up booking a hotel in Albufeira, Portugal. I’d never actually heard of it before. ‘The Algarve,’ I thought, ‘how fancy’. And then over the course of the next couple of months I heard of no less than three people heading there on stag weekends. What had I done? Was I accidentally going on a stag do with my boyfriend? Would we have to get matching tattoos on our arses?* View Full Post
To celebrate finally being out of the drudge-fest that was January, a couple of weeks ago I whisked my boyfriend on a romantic night away in Manchester. I say whisked – I mean I chuntered up the M6 in my Fiat 500, enjoying that lo-o-o-ong stretch of 50mph speed limit; and I say romantic – I mean I booked a budget city centre hotel with the last bit of my Christmas spending budget. But still, the thought was there guys. View Full Post
There are two words guaranteed to brighten any gloomy afternoon, but which are ESPECIALLY welcome in this never-ending month of January. Nope, not ‘free bar’ (though that comes close second): spa day.
I recently received a kind invitation to Hoar Cross Hall, and after checking it out online, I knew I was in for something really special. This Grade II listed stately home looked unlike any other spa I’d visited, and so last Sunday morning I whizzed over there with high expectations. (And by ‘whizzed’ I obviously mean I crept across at about 5 miles per hour because it had snowed overnight and the Derbyshire country roads were close to giving this city girl a breakdown.) View Full Post
Late last year, I decided to book my boyfriend a weekend away for Christmas (good way to get out of having to wrap a present FYI). I wanted somewhere cheap, cheerful and where there was a chance of a bit of winter snow. After a mooch online and a friends’ recommendations, I ended up booking a weekend in Budapest in January. I wasn’t 100% sure what to expect – or even where it was to be honest – but I am here to report that I had a great time. So, if you’re thinking about heading to Budapest during the winter, DO IT. And maybe this post will help… View Full Post
Okay, unladylike confession time: up until a couple of weeks ago, I had never experienced a spa day. Or even a spa. Or even a swimming pool that wasn’t in a grotty leisure centre or an Ibiza hotel, to be honest. It was something that hadn’t appealed to me, probably just because I didn’t have a need for it. But, as I’ve sashayed through my 20s and started experiencing more stressful situations (have you ever dealt with letting agents?!), the urge for a relaxaing, pampering experience has been stronger and stronger. So when I was recently invited along to visit the Cedarwood Spa in the nearby Forest of Arden Marriott Hotel, I jumped at the chance.
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A few weeks ago we were down in London for the Company Style Blogger Awards (which you can read all about here if you get the urge in your loins to do so)(always listen to your loins, people, always) and decided to stay over rather than end up running through Euston like mad banshees only to miss our train home… again.
Anywho, the beaut people at Premier Inn were nice enough to put us up for the night in their new Hackney hotel, which was uber-convenient for us with the event being in East London. Also I got to feel like Professor Green, so that was cool.
The room was perfect for getting ready – YES that is a light-up mirror. Because it was a family room there was also loads of space, so there was no biffing each other over mirror access or where we were going to put our gin.
We were in a mega rush when we were getting ready, but in the morning once Lauren had pottered off to work (ha) and I was still lounging on the chaise longue in the manner that I’d became accustomed to, I got to properly take advantage of the gigantic bed, endless tea supplies and flatscreen TV – yes that is the Real Housewives of SomewhereSomewhere, I’m very high-brow.
We also had a buffet breakfast which was perfect for our somewhat hungover brains, and the staff were all so helpful and lovely. I was already a big fan of Premier Inn anyway (er, who wouldn’t be?), but can 100% recommend the Hackney one now for anyone who may stay there.
A huge THANK YOU to everyone that was involved in our stay; you made our night utterly superb!