
Trading the Gym for Cricket Nets
The gym builds muscle, but the nets build character. Cricket demands patience, precision and the kind of rhythm no treadmill can teach.

The best hen do activities are less about chaos and more about charm, turning celebration into an art rather than an endurance test.
Words by: Sixes Cricket
A hen do is more than a gathering; it is a rite of passage conducted in silk and laughter. It is the moment before vows and veils, a final weekend of autonomy disguised as festivity. The best ones tread a fine line between civility and chaos, orchestrated just enough to feel effortless.
The British tradition of the hen party has evolved. Gone are the plastic tiaras and itineraries written in glitter. In their place stands a celebration designed with care — something modern, witty, and quietly elegant. It should reflect not only the bride but the women around her, a collective portrait of friendship and taste.
The following ideas span the full spectrum of indulgence, from play to peace, from laughter to reflection. And, naturally, it begins with a setting that understands the fine balance between energy and sophistication: Sixes Cricket.

Every perfect celebration begins with movement — the laughter that arrives before the champagne, the sound of friends finding rhythm together. At Sixes Cricket, the centuries-old sport is reimagined as modern theatre. The setting feels club-like but never pretentious, the kind of space where fun wears a tailored jacket.
Groups take turns stepping into the batting nets, where technology meets tradition in seamless harmony. The crack of ball against bat sends applause rippling through the room. For some, it is sport; for others, pure entertainment. What binds them is the laughter that follows each swing.
Between turns, glasses are refreshed, plates arrive with generous ease, and the air hums with sociable energy. It is competitive enough to be thrilling, comfortable enough to feel at home. By the evening’s end, cheeks glow, spirits rise, and the group feels more connected than when they arrived.
For a hen do, Sixes offers the perfect beginning — playful, elegant, and just irreverent enough to remind everyone that celebration need never be loud to be memorable.
Sometimes the best way to celebrate is to leave the city behind entirely. The countryside, with its slow cadence and clean air, invites restoration. Picture it: a Georgian farmhouse or converted barn, fires crackling in the grate, friends arriving in boots and laughter.
Days unfold lazily. Mornings begin with breakfast at a long table, coffee steaming beside bunches of wildflowers. Afternoons are spent on long walks or bundled beneath blankets with glasses of wine. Evening descends gently, bringing candlelight, good food, and hours of conversation.
The joy of a country weekend lies in its lack of schedule. Time stretches; phones vanish; the group rediscover the simple pleasure of being together without noise or structure. The bride, often overwhelmed by details and deadlines, finds herself breathing again.
By Sunday, everyone departs glowing, a little dishevelled, and more themselves than they have been in months. It is the kind of celebration that needs no hashtags, only memory.

A workshop turns a gathering into an experience — an afternoon spent learning, creating, and laughing in equal measure. The best ones offer a touch of artistry: flower arranging, pottery, calligraphy, or even perfume-making.
Each activity invites personality. The talkative debate design choices; the quiet ones focus with serene intensity. Music plays softly, glasses of prosecco clink against paintbrushes and petals. The result is more than an object; it is shared satisfaction.
What makes this approach special is its intimacy. Guests take home something they made, imperfect but authentic. The bride leaves with tokens crafted by the hands of her friends, each one infused with laughter and sentiment.
There is no pressure to perform, only the joy of doing. It is proof that creativity, when shared, becomes memory.
Luxury is sometimes best defined as silence. A spa day provides it in abundance — the scent of eucalyptus in the air, the sound of water echoing softly through tiled corridors, the bliss of time stretching without expectation.
A group booking transforms this serenity into camaraderie. Treatments alternate with gossip and tea, and robes become uniforms of relaxation. Lunch is unhurried, laughter low and easy. Hours pass in a pleasant haze of warmth, water, and whispered conversation.
By the end, the group emerges transformed: faces luminous, shoulders unburdened, voices soft. The bride herself, caught between excitement and exhaustion, will feel momentarily suspended between worlds. It is indulgence as medicine, calm as luxury.
And, crucially, everyone sleeps well that night — a small miracle before a wedding.

The difference between a drink and a cocktail lies in intention. A well-run masterclass reveals this truth with theatrical charm. It begins with polished glassware, gleaming shakers, and the promise of artistry.
Guests learn the science of ratios and the poetry of flavour. They muddle, stir, and shake, each movement punctuated by laughter. A favourite drink emerges for each participant — perhaps a martini with too much character, or a spritz reimagined.
As the evening continues, the group transforms into mixologists of varying competence and complete enthusiasm. Mistakes are met with applause, triumphs with cheers. By the end, conversation flows as smoothly as the drinks themselves.
It is a night that sparkles in memory — part education, part theatre, entirely fun.
There is something deliciously nostalgic about a night of games. It returns adults to the simplicity of play, the thrill of competition without consequence.
A house or hotel suite becomes a playground: candles lit, music low, cards shuffled. Choose games that provoke laughter rather than tension — trivia, storytelling, wordplay. For larger groups, create teams and tiny prizes, not for value but pride.
The joy lies in conversation. Arguments about rules dissolve into giggles; unlikely alliances form. Even the most serious guest becomes animated by the chase of victory.
As midnight arrives, glasses empty and laughter lingers. The room feels lighter, the group closer, and every small win becomes a shared memory.

Every great evening begins at a table. The hen do dinner, done properly, is a performance in multiple acts. A private space, candlelight, linen that feels like silk, and a menu curated with care.
Start with champagne to loosen formality. Move through courses that balance comfort and flair: perhaps burrata with roasted figs, sea bass in saffron broth, or chocolate tart that silences conversation. Between courses, speeches are made, gifts exchanged, and toasts raised to laughter rather than sentiment.
Then, somewhere between dessert and coffee, someone plays music. Shoes are discreetly abandoned, chairs pushed back, and the table transforms from dining to dance floor. The evening stretches past reason, held together by friendship and rhythm.
A proper dinner party ends not with exhaustion but with affection. It leaves behind the scent of candles, the echo of music, and a faint trail of confetti in someone’s hair.
Few things rival the grandeur of a night at the theatre. It brings glamour without excess and a collective sense of occasion. The very act of dressing for an evening performance feels ceremonial, a nod to civility rarely found elsewhere.
Gather early for drinks in the foyer, the air alive with anticipation. Lights dim, and the audience falls silent. For two hours, the outside world dissolves. You and your companions are transported by story and spectacle, bound together in shared attention.
Afterwards, the conversation spills onto the pavement, voices bright against the night. A late-night walk, perhaps a quiet drink nearby, and the realisation that culture, when shared, is a form of celebration.
It is theatre not just as entertainment but as punctuation — an evening that feels both elevated and deeply human.

Art brings out the most surprising sides of people. Give a group a canvas, a brush, and a glass of wine, and within minutes, personalities bloom. The confident take charge, the perfectionists hover, and someone inevitably paints a masterpiece by accident.
Life drawing, in particular, has become a favourite for hens who appreciate wit and a touch of daring. Under gentle instruction, guests sketch, giggle, and discover that artistic talent is secondary to amusement. The atmosphere feels bohemian, irreverent, and quietly bonding.
At the end, everyone compares their creations, marvelling at how a single subject inspired such variety. The room fills with applause and affectionate teasing. It is art as mischief — and memory.
To rediscover a city through play is one of life’s quiet joys. A treasure hunt through London’s streets transforms the familiar into adventure. Clues lead through historic lanes, over bridges, and into hidden courtyards that even lifelong residents rarely notice.
Teams race against time, collecting answers, photographs, and mild embarrassment. The competition is spirited but friendly, the laughter frequent. Along the way, people find stories in architecture and jokes in graffiti.
By the end, the group reunites, cheeks flushed, maps crumpled, and spirits high. The winner is forgotten quickly; the adventure is not. For brides who love discovery, it is the perfect urban celebration — exploration disguised as play.

Dancing together is a lesson in joy. A private class transforms hesitation into hilarity, rhythm into revelation. Under the guidance of a patient instructor, guests learn a routine — perhaps salsa, swing, or something delightfully retro.
At first there is self-consciousness, the awkward shuffling of strangers out of their comfort zones. Then the music takes hold, confidence blooms, and suddenly the room is alive with laughter. The bride leads, of course, radiant and slightly ridiculous.
By the finale, everyone is moving in sync, half in step, entirely in spirit. The shared exhilaration lingers long after the music fades, and somewhere between laughter and applause, friendship takes on choreography.
There is quiet magic in watching a film among friends. Hire a private screening room or create your own with cushions, blankets, and candlelight. The glow of the screen replaces conversation, yet the closeness of the group speaks volumes.
Choose films with memory — something romantic, something funny, something everyone can quote. Encourage interjections, laughter, and the occasional tear. Halfway through, pause for dessert or a glass refill; the atmosphere is that of a grown-up sleepover.
As credits roll, no one rushes to leave. The room feels content, the bride happy, and for a brief moment, time itself seems to slow.

Not every celebration needs music. Sometimes the most meaningful moments arrive in silence, through scissors, paper, and pens.
Set out supplies: ribbon, photographs, letters, pages from old diaries. Each guest contributes to a memory book — a handwritten message, a sketch, an anecdote, or advice whispered in ink. The process is leisurely, almost meditative. Stories flow as easily as the drinks beside them.
When complete, the finished book feels like a collective portrait of friendship: imperfect, personal, priceless. It is a reminder that elegance is emotional truth, beautifully edited.
There is no rule that says a hen do must involve travel. Sometimes the best escape lies within the city itself. Book a suite with a skyline view, order room service, and pretend you are visitors in your own home.
Daylight brings shopping, spa treatments, or cultural wandering. Evening descends, and the city transforms into theatre once again. Room lights reflect against glass, laughter fills corridors, and breakfast the next morning feels decadent, unhurried.
The city staycation is effortless glamour — all the indulgence of a trip without the fatigue of travel. It suits the modern bride perfectly: cosmopolitan, composed, and quietly in control.
Every celebration should end with mischief. The midnight feast, staged with ceremony, recalls the thrill of childhood rebellion.
Set the scene: pyjamas, soft music, trays of indulgent delicacies. Truffle crisps, petit fours, strawberries, and champagne chilled to perfection. Gather on the floor or across beds, whispering laughter as though you might wake someone.
Conversations drift between nostalgia and nonsense. Someone tells a story that becomes legend; someone else falls asleep mid-sentence. It is the kind of intimacy that cannot be planned, only permitted.
By dawn, the room is littered with crumbs and friendship. It is the perfect finale — frivolous, funny, and faintly poignant.

In truth, the success of a hen do has little to do with itinerary. It rests in the company kept, the rhythm of the group, and the tone set by love rather than logistics.
Whether one is swinging a bat at Sixes Cricket, painting by candlelight, or whispering secrets over midnight champagne, what matters is connection. The laughter that fills rooms, the calm between moments, and the feeling that this, right now, is what friendship was meant to be.
The best hen dos end not in exhaustion but in quiet gratitude. The kind that comes from knowing that, amid all the planning and performance, you created something beautiful — a celebration that will be remembered not for its noise, but for its grace.

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Sixes Cricket Limited ("the Company") was placed into Administration on 17 December 2025 and Anthony Wright and Alastair Massey of FRP Advisory Trading Limited ("FRP") were appointed as Joint Administrators.
The affairs, business and property of the Company are being managed by the Administrator(s) who act as agents of the Company without personal liability.
The Administrators are continuing to trade the Company’s business, and any enquiries should be directed to: sixescreditors@frpadvisory.com
For bookings and other enquiries please contact your local Sixes branch directly.