Birch Pavilion

We have just returned from 8 days staying in Birch Pavillion in Tunbridge Wells- a huge, picturesque, house situated in the middle of endless rolling hills filled with deer. It was exactly what I needed, chill, fun, sun, and a lot of booze. Our annual family trip has taken us all over England and ranges from 16-23 of us who go. This year consisted of 10 adults and 6 wonderful children, plus a brief visit from 4 other family members.  

As the grounds of the house were so vast, and the temperature increased as the week went on, we spent a lot of time chilling in the garden, playing cards, and attempting to kiteboard. However, we did venture out a few times, firstly to a “local” pub that took us about 40 minutes to walk to, along a busy road all fearing for our safety. Once we arrived we stayed for many, many hours- to make the walk worthwhile, then played in the park like lunatics before venturing through the forest for a more scenic and less travelled walk home. This time not fearing for life but instead gaining a few cuts from overgrown brambles.

The following day we headed to bewl water and hired bikes, it was so fun but very expensive. Adult bikes for the day were £25 each and kids ones were £20, or an extra £5 for a child seat attachment, between us we spent over £200 as some of them had taken their own. We cycled for hours around the water, through an extremely hilly forest. I started the adventure leading the way with one of my nephews but very quickly lost stamina and took a much more leisurely pace instead. Our bums were in agony after cycling 10 miles sat on extremely uncomfortable plastic seats, so we headed straight to the onsite café and got some cold beers to take away the pain.

Our final outing was to Scotney Castle, we pre-booked and drove in convoy all managing to be out of the house before 11. Pleased with ourselves we pulled up to the steward and said our names only to be told we had booked for the wrong day. Taking sympathy on us she let us through anyway and we mooched about the castle grounds. One of my nephews was particularly enthused that we were at a “real castle,” and instructed that if we were to see the queen we must remember to “use extra good manners.” We looked about for a while but the sun beating on our hungover heads wasn’t ideal so we didn’t stick about too long and returned home to resume drinking in the garden.

Each evening consisted of a lot of booze, a lot of food, and increasing amounts of mayhem. The first night we just danced about and played some games but after that, the nights erupted into chaos. Frequent brutal nerf gun wars, during one I tried to climb out of the window, scraped my bum cheek so horrifically that even now- 5 days later- it still hurts, whilst also managing to get stuck leaving me hanging by my shorts. Obviously,  I was relentlessly pelted with bullets, and am now covered in bruises. Another night we spent a long time rolling down the hill, joint to a pair in a hug position, so again covered in bruises. One of the most entertaining drunken pastimes was our dress-up evening, the girls and I secretly accumulated our partner's clothes and casually walked outside dressed like them to which they retaliated by reappearing dressed like us and showing a lot of sass, seeing my 31-year-old brother in a mini-dress and antennae looking bunches isn’t a sight I will quickly forget. Some of the children found it wildly amusing and came down the next morning in one another’s clothes causing our hangovers to worsen a little as they mocked us. Each night seemed to top the last, fun-wise but also booze-wise. By the end of the holiday we were drinking rum and coke from jugs, whilst playing lethal drinking games, and when the good alcohol ran out we drank “pimseco” (Pimm’s mixed with prosecco and any dregs of rum). I really didn’t want to come home, but someone would definitely have died from injury, or alcohol poisoning if we had stayed much longer so I suppose it’s a good thing. 8 days with my favourite people has given me more clarity in mind and made me feel a lot happier, I’m already so excited for next year’s holiday.

One hungover morning, taken from the inside balcony which we discovered with enough booze and manpower it can be scaled from the sofa