It’s only 6 days until the girls come over for the weekend. I’m SO excited about it I think I might burst! I’m driving Hubby mad with my continual stream-of-consciousness conversations about food: ‘ooh, I know, let’s have like a little mini cocktail party with canapés on the Friday evening…oh, hang on though, I was going to do some different curries and naan breads on the Friday…okay, well, we’ll have the cocktail party on the Saturday evening…but then…oh no, I was going to do ‘temple food’ on the Saturday because we’ll have been to the spa…’ He’s started zoning out now like that bloke in the advert that goes ‘terracotta?’ because he’s not been listening.
Anyway, back to our weekend. My lovely girlfriends both juggle jobs, busy households and children, so I want it to be a relaxing and pampering Irish experience all round with copious amounts of alcohol and food, obviously, oh and a bit of dog walking but I haven’t told them about that bit. I have been having several chats with the lovely ladies at the Spa, who are fantastically helpful and accommodating and seem to be having as much fun as me planning my pampering weekend for the girls. Every so often one of them will ring me and go ‘ooh, what about this treatment’ or ‘how about doing this’. I think they must go to special Spa-lady training school because even their voices are soothing, and they always say things like ‘have a lovely evening then’ or ‘we can’t wait to see you’ - they’re just soooo nice. And then there’s another ponderable - what to choose? Hmmm: a wondrous hour and a half long facial, with a ’stimulating blend of Pandan leaf and pink lotus extract to alleviate fine lines and wrinkles’ perhaps, or a deep, rhythmic massage with heavenly smelling essential oils, followed maybe by a little swim or a nice sit down and a chat, then ending up with a papaya and tamarind exfoliating hand ritual, or the hot stone foot and calf massage…ooh decisions, decisions! Then obviously we’ve got to fit in lunch at the posh restaurant there, plus chats, stops for refreshments and maybe another swim…if I was Madonna, or Bill Gates’ wife maybe (less effort and I wouldn’t suit those pointy bras), I think I’d just move in and spend my days working through the treatments until it was time for bed. Lovely.
Presumably getting into the spirit of things, B has decided to help by eating four of my lovely aromatherapy candles. I wonder if she’ll smell nice when she gets hot?