So spa, so good: spa review

A spa virgin, having little more than a facial in my entire lifetime, I review my first experience of a real grown-up pamper day.

A 30th birthday weekend break often involves some trademark activities. Lots of food, drinking, shopping and probably some beauty therapy time. So when my friend invited me along to her birthday weekend, and chucked the word spa in for good measure, I was more than excited for some adult indulgence.

For our chosen day of relaxation - a therapeutic morning after the night before - we chose to visit the Thermae Bath Spa, renowned for it's treatments and fabulous facilities.

Facilities
✌ ✌ ✌ ✌ ✌
Clean, well-organised, complimentary tea, a relaxation room - with fashion magazines. That's before we even think about the four different-scented steam rooms, heated indoor pool with mini-rapids and the heated outdoor pool with the jaw-dropping view over Bath.

Now I really cannot testify to how amazing the rooftop pool was. I wish I'd been able to snapchat the moment we stepped out of the lift and into the glorious sunshine beaming off the steaming-hot pool. It was like something out of a James Bond film, only with middle-aged women and couples as extras.

The steam rooms were really a lovely cathartic experience. And the pools had water reminiscent of the Indian ocean. With showers - hot and cold - and water fountains abundant, it would have been difficult to feel any discomfort.

Staff
✌ ✌ ✌ ✌
Smiley, soft-spoken and calm. But when my beauty therapist appeared from nowhere and looked like she'd just taken early retirement from the marines I became just a little more tense. Further justified when your friend later whispers to you: "I'm glad she wasn't mine". And with questions about how you're feeling, how well you're sleeping and how emotionally stressed you are, the beauty therapy questionnaire began to feel like actual therapy.

Ultimately though, they were great. Top marks for not forcing small talk.

Treatments
✌ ✌ ✌ ✌ 
We invested our bodies in the 'Treat' package: a back massage followed by a facial. The back massage was, at points, uncomfortable but ultimately a resurrectory experience. A few cracks and some knots popped straight out of my shoulders - it's like I've never slept on a floor or forgot to stretch. The facial, on the other hand, was so relaxing it sent me to sleep.

Points deducted for price only, but when you're working a student budget and living a Bradshaw lifestyle, anything that costs more than free is a sacrifice.

Bonus points for fresh, dry robes post-treatment.

Overall score:
✌ ✌ ✌ ✌ ✌
Now, I can't testify to the food or drink, but I can say that a glass of champagne would have just been the icing on the cherry on top of what was a really perfect visit.

It's hard to hate mondays when you're sitting in a jacuzzi pool, in the glorious sunshine with two of your best friends.

Treatments undertaken: May 2015 at www.thermaebathspa.com

"I never feel so much myself as when I’m in a hot bath."

Sylvia Plath ruined baths for me - which is surprising because you'd think out of any household object she'd probably ruin ovens.

In The Bell Jar, the self-absorbed, potentially-autobiographical, protagonist nonchalantly claims that she can recall every bathtub she's ever been in. This absolutely torments me.

Each time I take a bath, I lie in that god-forsaken cream coloured tub and try to count backwards all the bathtubs I can remember being in.

This bath: the family house bath, comforting, echoey and shallow.
My last university house: steep and deep and just a bit dirty.
A hotel in Turkey: excellent acoustics for an album or two.
My first university house: undissolved epsom salts and lukewarm water.

Then it starts to get really difficult.

• Did that place have a bath or a shower?
• Do hot-tubs count?
• What if there was someone else in the bath with me?

I like to think that until the moment Esther Greenwood recalled all of her previous bathtubs, she had led a very sheltered life. Perhaps she'd only ever been in three baths - so actually, her recollection ability isn't that impressive.

The point is, The Bell Jar, is not a novel that leaves no lasting affect. When you finish a book, or a TV show or a particularly good film, sometimes you'll experience that sense of loss. What do I do with my life now?

But The Bell Jar has an incredibly unique effect. You don't feel a passing loss for the story or the characters, instead the bell jar itself begins to form around you. Whether it was there before, and you simply didn't see it, or whether it forms with every passing Plath sentence, The Bell Jar - novel and psychiatric condition - becomes more evident, and harder to get over cope with.

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

With lines like that, I was not the only lit student rendered mildly depressed and bedridden post-Plath.

Esther's bathtub speech comes very early into the novel, and, I believe, is a poignant moment in noticing her internal dislocation. She states that she feels more herself when she's in the tub. And she's right. I also never feel so much Esther Greenwood as when I'm in a hot bath.