El Crapola morning in the spa

trash heap

One of the things I love love love about holidays is the chance to try out new and different spa treatments - and possibly bring word about different or exotic treatments back to our fair isle.

But this time it was not to be. Oh no.

I had three treatments. One was a chocolate bath which I was really looking forward to. But it didn´t even smell like chocolate. And the surly girl who administered it turned the jets up so high they kept drenching me in the face. Not good I can assure you.

The same girl hurried me to treatment number two: a theraputic neck and shoulders massage. I always try to get one of these after a plane journey due to the ongoing neck problems I've probably bored the arse off you all with many times before. Now generally when you ask for a theraputic treatment it's not going to be relaxing or soothing - it's going to be sore because it´s targeting problem areas. Extremely tense muscles and so on. Perfect for the ring of iron around my neck so. But my god did this one hurt. I gritted my teeth and yelped in pain a few times. "Less pressure" I begged on a couple of occasions, but she was having none of it.


I couldn't believe my luck. The torturer was also administering my express facial. True to form she scrubbed the face off me with a sandpaper like scrub and towels that felt like a cats tounge. I didn't bother to say anything to her - I don't think she spoke any English. Plus, her obvious hatred for her job silenced me further.

When I got home, I looked in the mirror. My eyeliner was still on.

Oh well. Can't win em all, eh.

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