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The Guardian Weekend

Day three was much more like it: the Treatment Rooms, your classic high-end urban spa. Now, if I liked this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing I’d like: no tall tales of shrunken tumours or whiff of hippy cooking; just fragrant calm on all sides. That I didn’t get more out of my hour-long massage and hot stone therapy had nothing to do with Fay, my therapist, and everything to do with me. After 30 years of hardcore hedonism, your fun thermostat ineviatbly gets out of whack. On the other hand, Yv said it left her floaty and made her sleep better, and she’s well-placed to judge the benefit of such things.