Well, I say it was a “day” at the spa but it was more like two hours because who the hell can afford an ENTIRE day at the spa?
Not me. I took my girlfriend on a two hour spa trip to celebrate her finally doing the hoovering or something like that – here is what we got up to!
The spa was in Royal Tunbridge Wells so of course it was full of posh people, posh people who don’t shower before going into the pool by the way. But what the hell have you got to sweat about when you’re that rich?
The pool was surprisingly cold and had missing tiles in it, but what’s a peaceful swim if you don’t nearly cut your foot open on a jaggy piece of slate? The steam room was dark and steamy, obviously, and I felt like I was in some sort of seedy establishment for gay men and should be lying naked while someone strokes me with branches. But instead I just sat there with my girlfriend talking about periods.
The hot tub was so HUGE that you could fit my entire family in it, not that I would want them all there because a) they’re not the cleanest of people and b) we’d essentially be having a massive family bath together and we only like to have those on very special occasions.
My girlfriend went for her massage first so I had the entire pool to myself, I swam up and down imagining that it was my own personal pool that I had bought myself after my massive book royalties had come in. I then sat in the steam room for a bit and contemplated getting my kit off but then I thought that there might be hidden cameras and I didn’t want end up in some sort of porn video titled “naked hairy lesbian doesn’t realise she’s on camera”.
When it was my time to leave the pool and steam room I went upstairs to the reception and waited for my massage, which was a bit awkward as the reception area was full of people wearing coats while I was there naked with nothing but a small towel to hide my gorgeous figure.
I love getting stopped by security at customs because I get to have a free ten second touch up by some random woman. And I was expecting something similar for my massage, but it turned out that I was actually going to get touched up by a big Russian bloke. However, it was for 20 minutes, (5 minutes longer than expected) what a result!
He was a very beautiful Russian man. Well, I imagined that he was beautiful. I didn’t actually get to see his face because I was told by a woman to take my kit off and lie down and then when I was head down the Russian bloke came in, did his business and left without saying anything more than “Hello, my name is Vladimir”. What a smooth talker.
The changing rooms didn’t have any cubicles in them, but that was OK because I like getting my jabbas out for everyone to see. There was however a hair dryer, straighteners, deodorant and cotton buds. I felt truly pampered.