Posts Tagged ‘hen weekend’

The Emily Game

August 30, 2011

‘Next time we have friends round,’ I tell the fiancé, ‘we MUST play The Emily Game.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ he replies.

‘I’m not being stupid! It’s the best game ever. It’s so much fun.’

‘We can’t ask people over and insist on them playing a game all about you.’

‘No you nitwit, it’s not all about me, it’s just named after me. It’s all about books.’

‘Emily,’ he says, his voice taking on a sterner tone, ‘we are not going to play The Emily Game.’

Well, just in case you should be coming round to ours anytime soon, and feel like playing The Emily Game (we can wait till he’s not in the room, so he need never know), let me explain how it came about.

This weekend was my hen weekend. Everything about it was kept Top Secret, to the extent that I was blindfolded for the final half hour of the car journey and then taken to a strange provincial tearoom, filled with china cats and even sporting an anti-foreigner sign, while sinister preparations were being made in my absence.

I returned to the mystery location to see a parade of my closest girlfriends lined up underneath bunting made of Penguin covers and pages of books, and a big sign that announced:

Emily’s Literary Hen

How glorious! How extremely clever. First there was the literary bunting, then the literary drinks menu, including such classics as ‘The Scarlett O’Hara’ – Southern Comfort, cranberry juice and lime – complete with the quotation:

‘Don’t drink alone, Scarlett. People always find out, and it ruins the reputation,’ Rhett Butler.

Then we moved on to such baked treats as Proust’s Madeleines and a Gingerbread House, followed by a dinner taken straight out of A Room of One’s Own.

But I digress, for the most important bit of the weekend was surely the invention of The Emily Game.

This took place at the end of the Woolfian dinner. Everyone began to look a bit shifty over their crumble and then the Maid of Honour announced it was time for The Emily Game.

‘How long does she get?’ asked one eager chicken.

‘Let’s say a minute.’

‘No, thirty seconds.’


‘Help!’ That was me. ‘What do I have to do? What is The Emily Game?’ I feared that everyone would do cruel impressions of me. (In fact, that didn’t happen till later in the weekend, and then, more precisely, it was a rather inaccurate mime of my recently-discovered talent for performing a spontaneous saxophone solo – with no saxophone.) But no, the rules of The Emily Game are as follows.

  1. In advance of the game, each person – except for Emily – has to prepare a prop which suggests a book.
  2. Each person takes it in turns to present her prop to Emily.
  3. Emily then has however long to ask yes/no answers about the prop or book to deduce what book it might be.
  4. If Emily succeeds, everyone else has to drink. If she fails, she has to drink.
  5. Variation: I suppose it doesn’t just need to be Emily who guesses, but people could take it in turns to guess/present their prop.

For instance, some train tickets were Anna Karenina. A bottle of TCP, with labels carefully replaced with ‘Medicine’ and a list of various ingredients including ‘Horse strength throat lozenges, antifreeze and dark brown gloss paint’ was George’s Marvellous Medicine. My cousin Tessa, with a pillow stuffed under her top was – ingeniously – Tess of the D’Urbervilles. There was also a brilliant charade with a red petticoat for The Railway Children.

A marvellous game.

Spectacularly good fun.

I strongly recommend it for any literary parties or salons.

And, if you were to feel like bringing along a prop next time you see me, well then, I would be delighted to introduce you, personally, to the delights of The Emily Game.

Finally, can you guess the novel from the prop below?

Clue: The novel is set in India.