The fashion designer and myself had, for the first time ever, the same day off. It was also pay day. My ever so slight aversion to skiing, plus the fact it was the end of season and the snow was melting fast meant that it was decided we should visit the spa in Meribel centre. The fashion designer seemed to be some kind of spa junky, and as she hadn't visited one in a while, was suffering some little what. I had never been to a spa before. I had never actively avoided them, they just really weren't on my radar.
Firstly she informed me that it just wasn't the done thing to wear a bikini in a spa. I didn't have a swimming costume so she lent me a top that covered my middle section. It didn't seem to matter that this top, although it seemed to be made out of Lycra (not a material I tend to go for in clothes) wasn't actually designed for swimming.
We walked to the centre discussing current events and bumped into one of the Ram Raid who told us how he was going to a talk about the dangers of drug dealing which was being held that night in a cheese shop (that's no joke, he actually was). We told him we were going to the spa. He said some rather strange things and made his goodbyes and we were half way down the road when we realised he thought we were going food shopping.
I don't know what I expected from the spa. I think I thought I was going to have a massage and have mud put on my face and I was going to emerge actually glowing and a stone lighter. This didn't happen. We were given robes (that had rubbed up against god knows how many people's nakedness, I dont care if they have been washed) and we were shown to the shower, sauna, steam room and hot tube. I was slightly disappointed. We were told about the unlimited tea available. I felt better.
The fashion designer - lets re name her the spa nazi - had planned our trip down to the last second. First steam room. This was fine, I don't mind them. Although after about 10 minutes I find it a bit hard to breath. And it's difficult to sit on the seats without sliding off because they are so wet.
Then we go to the sauna. Again I quite like saunas. However the spa nazi believes that you have to be in the sauna for about three hours until your brain boils and your eyeballs explode. I was actually melting and she was complaining it just wasn't hot enough. After a winter in the Alps, a wet April in Yorkshire feels rather tropical. I thought I was going to die and said I was going to check out the hot tube whether she liked it or not.
She came with me
The only other person in there was a fat French man in tiny swimming trunks. They left nothing to the imagination. But it was quite big and I was as far away from him as possible . I spent some time enjoying the bubbles. And then needed a cup of the unlimited tea I had been promised some time (about 20 minutes) earlier.
I was a little confused as to where the tea was. There were two urns. But one contained hot water claiming to be flavoured with elderflower and the other apple and lavender (or some such other non Earl Grey, non English Breakfast not actual tea flavouring)
The spa nazi was in her element. 'This is just soooo good for you' she drawled.
Then she dragged me round and made me do the whole thing again!
Next time I at least want a massage from a hot man wearing a very small towel. And for there to be mud involved. And for me to leave with my skin actually shimmering.
