We clucked

So the Hen Day.

The chicks and the two mother hens met under the clock at Waterloo at 12 noon.

From there it was boat rides, photo and scavenger hunts, picnics and plasticine men making, before afternoon tea at the National Gallery. And all very civilised it was too.

The bride, who was in our group, had an extra scavenger list of her own that included getting a piggyback ride from a stranger. It was mid-afternoon, near the Tower of London, and there weren't many groups of drunken lads around (and they seemed the most likely candidates - also for the men's pants scavenger task). But having been tooted by a boy on a scooter who then parked near us, it seemed providence had provided.

Now how many people do you think are in London of a sunny Spring afternoon? Yes, lots and lots. And how many of those do you think would have had a back operation that left a nasty scar and the inability to give someone a piggyback?

At least one. He even showed us the scar.

That sort of put us off asking anyone else.

The chicks went on to an evening gig at Camden while the mother hens clucked off.

Elder Son's stag day is the weekend after next - the one before the wedding. We are hoping he won't end up, naked and money-less, tied to a lamp-post in Edinburgh

Are stag and hen dos - the final farewell to singleness - a British institution or do they happen worldwide?