Dear Lucy,
I'm off to the spa on Saturday for my Christmas treat. Last time I was there I began writing about how much better it was than on holiday, so I thought I'd finish in time for my next visit.
Holidays, it is said, are a chance to relax and enjoy yourself; to switch off and get away from ‘it all.’ Well, I say Humbug. For me, they're the ultimate over-promise; an impossible ideal just waiting to be spoiled by reality.
In part, this is because whenever I go away, within a few hours of arriving I discover that the ‘me’ I was sure I’d left behind with the unchosen outfits snuck into the suitcase and spent the journey in the hold while I was busy buying unnecessary items on the plane.
Nose out of joint at having been discarded, she will now follow me around making sure I pay attention to how it’s not quite what I imagined here; the beach/little town not quite as accessible, the landscape flatter than the rolling pictures implied. How I’m in the ‘not quite right’ place once again.
The Disney-me would surely love everything about the holiday and find it enchanting; ‘an experience.’ But my black and white TV shadow will make sure the Disney-me is shut back in the DVD case where she belongs.
And this brings me to my first and main reason why the spa is better than a holiday - I’m not trying to leave myself behind. The ‘me’ I try to run away from on holiday is right there with me. In fact, the spa is all about her and her routine-loving, unsociable, jogging-bottomed, no make-up ways. Here she gets treated with warmth, cosiness and no pressure to do or be anything. Happily indulged, loved and looked after, she relaxes with me and oh what a lovely time we have.
It would be typically me to fall foul of having an aspirational ‘Spa me’ that ends up making me feel inadequate. But guess what? I am who I aspire to be at the spa! I look in the mirror and smile, I have this in the bag and my reflection knows it.
On the subject of bags, here's another great thing about the spa: the packing and unpacking. As you know, this has always been one of my favourite, if not the favourite, thing about a holiday. Perhaps the change makes me anxious and the comfort of sorting and planning calms me or maybe I just like this simple and satisfying task.
At the spa, I get to pack/unpack multiple times in one day.
The first is obviously the ‘bung in everything I’m going to need for the day’ pack, making sure I have enough bags for decanting when I get there.
Then I jump into the car and, in just 20 minutes, I arrive. It’s just far enough away to punctuate home and the spa, but close enough to not have to plan ‘travel time,’ or panic that I’ve forgotten my passport.
When I get to the spa I’m already relaxed. Spa = relaxation, muscle-memory kicks in.
The second pack comes on arrival at the changing rooms. I tend to do ‘non-water’ things at the spa first (I am leaving room for the possibility of variation hence the ‘tend’ - I do have some spontaneity in me) so I keep my joggers and jumper on and pack just books, headphones etc.
Now I can go and start to enjoy the held space of the spa. I’m always harping on about ‘held space’ but it’s amazing what it can do. There’s literally nothing else I can do but read, write, people-watch and listen to music. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to ‘check-out’. No fabulous things I mustn't miss. Heaven.
On holiday, I spend so much time rushing around getting my bearings, developing a new routine - essentially recreating ‘home’ somewhere new - that it’s only on about the fourth day that I start to relax. This lasts for about 23 minutes because no sooner has that happened than the, “It goes so fast/we must make the most of the last few days” talk begins.
Of course, this happened the first couple of times at the spa but now that I’m a professional, I just enjoy other people rushing around chatting about what they’ll do and when and enjoy the ‘at the airport’ holiday buzz it creates.
The third pack is at lunchtime. That’s not technically a repack, more just an addition - of the food. I say food, but what I actually mean is snacks which of course include: Peanuts, chocolate, Paprika crisps and maybe a chunk of cheese. I don’t eat a sit-down meal at the spa because it just gets in the way of the lovely laying down I have planned.
The last time I went, I took the opportunity of the late lunchtime rush at the restaurant to swim in the empty outdoor pool. The sun had come out and the pool was heated which transported me to holiday seas but without the inevitable fear of shark attacks.
And here’s another packing opportunity. For the ‘watery’ portion of the day, I put everything away except for a towel giving me an extra freedom the virgin spa-me could have only dreamed of.
On the subject of water, I almost forgot about children. I was once in the sea on holiday and a small boy was happily splashing about near me. He told me, with genuine delight, “I can’t swim!” I said to him, “Well I’m not going to keep my eye on you and save you so stay where you can put your feet on the ground.” I thought that was fair. He seemed to think this was hilarious, or did I mistake his cries for help as laughter; was he drowning not waving? Oops.
To be honest, I do like children being around on holiday. I stayed in an adult only hotel once and it was just weird. But at the spa, no. I don’t miss the constant blood curdling screams that come out of any child when they get within three feet of any body of water, so the children-free environment is definitely a bonus.
After I've had a sauna and shower, it’s another repack and back to the book bag with any remaining peanuts and chocolate … It does happen.
I struggle a little with this last portion of relaxation. Now that I’m freshly showered, it’s hard not to go straight into ‘going home’ mode, but I’m working on this. I considered booking a treatment at the end of the day, but one of the other things about the spa is that I can leave whenever I’ve had enough so I don’t want to tie myself in by booking something. It’s a work in progress and I’m looking forward to experimenting on Saturday.
The penultimate pack is when I’m ready to leave. This may or may not be a compartmentalised pack before leaving, I like to leave a little jeopardy in the day. Of course, I then get the final unpack when I get home.
There are probably some good arguments you could throw back at me in favour of a holiday. One could be that I sound a little unhinged and desperately need one; a good change of scenery, but have you seen Windows screensavers these days?
There’s nothing remarkable about any of this I know. It’s just that at last, at this tender age, I’m finally accepting that this is who I am. No more will the pressure of being more windswept and interesting plague my choices. I accept that I am a lover of comfort; happier when things are known. I’ll leave the exploring to others and I am finally OK with that.
I know I won’t have convinced you, although it does support your argument to one day go on a cruise, there are similarities in the contained experience. But for me, that just highlights another benefit of the spa. It’s on safe, dry land, thank you very much.
Afterword: Writing this has made me really want to go on holiday.
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