Have a spa weekend - chapter 2

A spa break has to do two things.  One, help you forget about real life for a day or so and two, make you feel young again. By this I mean that it has to be organised enough to leave you with a minimal loading of decision making but at the same time give you lots of opportunities to just 'play' if you want to. Ragdale Hall does this amply well.  It offers a raft of treatment choices from facials, to body wraps to the slightly sado-masochistic Ballinese massage for which I opted (Russia, Bali, who would have thought they had much in common? The kind of massage that has you slapping the couch, accepting you are just not man enough is only a starter. To understand this reference you need to read the previous post).  On top of that they have the fabulous hydro-spa and finally, enough quiet places full of comfy sofas and day-beds to make you feel like Lady Chatterley.  They probably have gardeners as well if you ask........   So, my included treatments - facial and body wrap - were supplemented by optional torture - read Ballinese massage - and topped up by a gentle rotation through the many options in the thermal-spa. And being a water baby at heart, this is where I spent a lot of my time.  The hydro-spa was newly opened at my last visit and I am embarrassed to tell you this, dear readers, but on my first visit I really struggled to get the geography of the place.  I would head to the spa and end up at the veranda café, head to the veranda café and I would end up at reception. Head for reception and I would end up at the Retreat. This was not at ALL satisfactory.   This time, having learned my lesson, I studied the kindly supplied map of 'Ragdale world' and got my bearings. Good and proper. This meant, unfortunately, that I could find my way to the new boutique all too easily.  Probably blindfolded, infact.  Rather to the detriment of my American Express card. But back to the thermal-spa.......

Heading north east from our rather sumptious superior twin room (another perk of being with super-client?) after about 3 minutes walk, you hit the indoor swimming pool (and you thought us gals didn't have any idea about direction......!).  This is a lovely shaped pool, with waterfall and lots of very comfy loungers usually full of 'I love being near a pool, but don't actually want to swim' types. The pool has,  very importantly for a 'once competitive swimmer', two straight 25m lanes which means you can actually get a bit of speed up.  Not being one of the 'I need to keep my hair dry and my lipstick on' brigade, this is a real bonus.  Seven forty-five a.m. I am in the pool, plowing up and down in my effort to lose the Mrs Blobby all-too-real-fat-suit, I am joining one other swimmer.  She is quite good too.  Nash.  But, without appearing to be overly competitive, I make sure I beat her every length.  She gets out.  Ha.

Beyond the pool, is the hydro-spa. This, is probably the most unique part of the Ragdale Hall experience.  There might be other better hydro-spas elsewhere, I don't know.  I just know that I love this place.  Just walking through the door makes me exhale in a great big aaahhhhh.  Time stands still. There is something almost primevil and womb-like about its security and call to the most basic human need to be warm and cossetted.  I'll stop now, because even I know I'm starting to sound like I'd being paid to write this. Which I am not by the way.  Honestly.

Step through the door of the hydro-spa though, and be ready to just let your stresses melt away.  The gentle sound of running water draws you in, the visual experience of lava rock and succulent plants makes you feel like you have stumbled in to some tropical paradise, and the very clear instructions on each hydro-treatment means you know exactly what you are getting yourself into.   I have to say it now, I will say it again later, my deep love is the thunderstorm shower.  And yes, I admit I hogged it for a bit, but standing in a (not real, but it feels like it) cave, with the sound of thunder, sparks of simulated lightening and the downpour of (very warm) 'rain' just calls on the most basic of instincts and makes you understand why our ancestors prayed and sought to placate the gods of the elements.  I want one of those at home, please.

More on my Ragdale Hall experience, later.