The joys of your 20s, when your friends are settling down, getting married and you get the privilege of being bridesmaid.

A privilege which I would not wish on my worst enemy.

Being a bridesmaid usually means you are entrusted with hen do planning.

A process so painful, stressful and soul destroying, I would rather marry a Tory.

Trying to plan where to go, what to do, keeping the budget in line with a range of financial situations. It is what I imagine hell is like.

Managing a group of women, half of whom you don’t know, confirming they are happy to go ahead with plans, getting quotes based on the people who have agreed, who then do not respond or agree to payments. It is like herding cats.

We put together an itinerary, including all costs to be transparent. Before we proceed to booking we must get the go ahead of the 'bride tribe' (insert sick face).

Yet we still have someone reply, asking what is left to pay and plucking the most random figure out of thin air. Another asking what the payment includes, as if we hadn’t sent a long-detailed itinerary in the WhatsApp group chat before.

'Hen do planning is a modern-day torture technique that could break down terrorists...'

Once plans are outline in a group chat I am convinced people lose the ability to search and read.

The worst part is, after months of this stress, of chasing people up, of people dropping out, of working out how we cover the costs, I will spend the hen worrying, ensuring everyone is happy and having a good time and not enjoying myself in the slightest.

Hen do planning is a modern-day torture technique that could break down terrorists.

Once the hen is done, bridesmaid duties on the big day are not quite as draining, but it still isn’t fun. I can’t wait until it’s over when I may finally get a good night’s sleep.

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