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What do the following have in common: Christening, Twenty-first, Graduation, Engagement, Wedding, Divorce and Wake? They are all major events that may well require some sort of celebratory soiree that includes inviting family, friends, the next door neighbour and Aunt Marjory and her dog. For such momentous events that mark the milestones of ones life, a party of a lifetime is needed for each one. A tall order indeed, especially when keeping up with the Jones’s. Long gone are the days when a homemade trifle and crepe paper party hat were enough to impress the regular party goer. Nowadays nothing less than a guest appearance form a C list celebrity and monkey that can juggle flaming poi will do.

There is another way of impressing the family and throwing a party that will be remembered for years to come without hiring Jordan and Peter to entertain the guests. Having a do at a stunning venue will ‘do’ the trick. The more unusual the place and the more elaborate the entertainment; the greater impression will be left on those in attendance. I recall one time when I was taken on a mystery trip for a company’s Christmas party, it outdid most celebrations I’ve ever attended and is the perfect example of party throwing.

The journey started at Stansted airport, clutching a ticket to Schiphol airport and directions to what appeared to be a low grade hotel on the outskirts of the Netherlands, with a name along the lines of Quality Inn, I was hedging my bets it was not a five star palace with duck down duvets and champers in the fridge. It was to be a red herring for the weekend ahead. Upon arrival, my spidey senses proved me right; worn carpets, a lumpy bed, a complementary Toblerone and a single serving of Gin and Tonic were what greeted me upon my arrival. Full of disappointment and downright fear for the weekend ahead, I slipped into my evening dress and heels deeply concerned that I was going to be greatly overdressed for whatever occasion was ahead of me. It was then that I learned that the last group trip courtesy of the company was a trip to a Belgian bowling alley. Oh dear.

In due time, the coach arrived to collect us all, and thankfully, most others were in attire appropriate for a sophisticated evening out, rather than a leisure centre activity. Full of expectation and apprehension, we endured a journey of at least an hour and a half. It took us through towns and villages, threatened to pull up outside a strip club and then continued into the dark countryside. As we were nearing the German border, we pulled into a gravel driveway lined with flaming torches, destination still not in sight. Tension and expectation mounting, we turned a corner and through the trees, up on a hill was a castle glowing by torchlight. Was this another herring of redness?

It was the real McCoy. As we alighted, we were greeted by stilt walkers and jugglers, violinists and jesters that danced. Across the drawbridge and under the portcullis we journeyed through candlelit tunnels to a grand room full of feasting, wine and cigars. This stunning room had a grand piano, chandeliers, chaise longues; gilded mirrors and authentic oil paintings. A small stone spiral staircase led downwards to what must have once been the castle’s cellars and storage rooms, but were for this evening, rooms in a medieval tavern, where musicians played while we drank and laughed. This was a venue with clout and made a major impression on us all and didn’t require the presence of a minor celeb to make the night, although the fire juggling monkey would have been a fitting touch.