Have a spa weekend - chapter 8

The most wonderful part of Ragdale Hall, at least from my perspective, is the Thermal Spa.  Newly commissioned just before my last visit four years ago, just pushing open the door and hearing the first gentle sounds of running water makes my shoulders relax and the first soft sensations of relaxation begin to percolate up through my toes and quietly diffuse through the rest of my body.  I am sorry to say, in a nice way, that not all one's decision making capacity can be left at the door.  But the kinds of decision you will make in this little microcosm of tranquility and peace are the sorts that most of us are happy with. Decisions such as 'shall I start with the candle lit pool today?'  Visiting the spa for a second time does make a difference because it all starts to feel a little familiar and one can start to develop a routine of sound, colour and olfactory sensations which suit ones particular mood.  Being naturally drawn by water I nearly always begin in the candle pool. 

Leaving my robe on a peg at the door, there are a few gentle steps spiralling downwards into the water; warm, inviting and hip-deep.  Turning the corner as you decend there is the first flicker of candles lit against the gloom and the soft strains of classical music.  Emerging into the centre of the pool, you wonder perhaps if this isn't exactly the kind of place that Aphrodite may have felt at home in on a spa break from Mount Olympus.  So channelling my own internal goddess I settled my head back against one of the conveniently supplied pillow supports and thought about love, beauty and pleasure.

Being one for contrasts, I follow my dip in the candle pool with a drenching, or two or three, under the storm shower.  I know it is only pretend and that only ten feel away are rattan chairs and fluffy towels, but if you turn your back, hit the correct button on the wall and concentrate, for ten or fifteen seconds it's just about possible to believe you are caught in a storm on some tropical island somewhere near the equator. The 'rain' falls hard, drenching you immediately and then the sounds of thunder and flashes of lightening begin.  It really is exhilarating.  I love it.  Maybe it connects with our ancestoral and primeavil awe of the elements and our intrinsic draw to them.  Maybe I just like getting wet.  Whichever, or both, I recommend it.

Having started in the candle pool, had my exhilerating fill of the storm shower, contemplated life in the volcanic salt  bath and allowed the scented room to melt away those final thoughts of life in the outwide world, I sort of pour myself into the Rose Sauna.  Flipping the timer I settle myself on the upper level, gaze out of the triple-glazed window into one of the Hall's gardens and allow the heat to settle in, around and upon me.  Slowly I feel my pores open and the sweat begins to leave trails of moisture across my skin.  I feel my scalp contract and the unusual sensation of hot air prickling my lungs. My ordinary life seems a very, very, long way away now.  And for those moments, I am truly at peace.