We went to the spa yesterday. I’d never been to a spa before, mostly for reasons of discomfort, which seems ironic given that the purpose of the spa is exactly the opposite. Nevertheless, I was always uncomfortable about (1) things that are seemingly posh, (2) being in water, (3) being bored, (4) being massaged or touched in any way, and (5) wearing nowt but swimming shorts in front of strangers.
I could take you through those five things and explain how none of them really matter of course, but honestly, I’m not sure I need to. We had a great day, and I had a wonderfully relaxing time, slowly undoing each of those objections. I got in the pool. I got in the colder pool. I got in the jacuzzi pool. Loved it. Weirdly loved it. I read books on a lounger. I listened to Audible on the hot beds. I watched the ceiling of artificial stars through the palm leaves. Loved it. We chatted, we snoozed, we ate, we bobbed about in the water. Loved it. No-one touched me. No-one stared at me. Nobody was extra snotty or extra snobby, and we were nicely looked after the whole time. Loved it. Best of all, I woke up this morning feeling amazing - perhaps for the first time in a long, long time. Love it.
I couldn’t help thinking about the Romans. It’s odd when you walk around the baths at Bath for example. There, the water’s green and uninviting. The stones are dark and cold. and everything seems so ancient. But even though the roof has long gone, and even though you’re shuffling round with a backpack and sensible shoes, surrounded by primary schoolchildren with sketch pads, you do still get a wisp of the idea. And yesterday, with the artificial columns and the luxuriant bubbling pools, and the hubbub of people in robes and swimming costumes and flip flops, you can see that it’s exactly the same idea, two thousand years on.
One thing I’m sure the Romans had, that was there in abundance, was the gossip. You could hear it resonating - an echoing cackle of ladies, shoulders-deep in a circle in the pool, the shock face of someone with their hand over their mouth and eyes-wide, the close whispers and the corridor chats. At one point, in a queue for ordering tea, I overheard two very frank chats about periods - talk clearly loosened by the oxygenated water and Prosecco, plus other medical things I don’t think should be repeated. I wasn’t expecting that. There is something very fierce and impolite about people who’ve paid for luxury and have allowed themselves to relax fully into it. It’s another reason why I don’t think I could go on a cruise.
That aside then, we had a brilliant time, and as ever the question of whether I’d go again (Sammy’s been many times before) came up. Yes. I think at the end of a long term, or as a respite from a difficult season, even after a particularly intense event like a conference or a camp, then yes. I really do see the benefit, and not just for us: I was already thinking of people to gift with spa days as a treat. Too often and I reckon it loses its power, but as a special thing to look forward to, enjoy, and feel the benefit of, I think it’s just about ideal.
The Romans were on to something.
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