Mulberry Spa

Yesterday was one of my first proper girls days out. A friend and I went to to book a hot oil massage and Dermalogica facial followed by a lunch of fresh crab cakes, garlic Mayo and a crispy mixed-leaf salad.
They had booked us into a lesbian shared room (why I ask? Apparently, asking consulting the masseur, desperate expat housewives like to catch up on gossip as they get pummelled) Once we had that fixed it was like heaven. Perfect pressure, perfect temperature (after I turned the aircon off)
Until 10 minutes before the end when it sounded like three thousand children launched into the reception downstairs. I sat bolt upright, jolted from my semi slumber. Once I was done and had discretely re-applied mascara, I asked for the manager.
“are there children in this spa?”
Manager (smiling) “yes mam”
Me “why are there children in a spa”
Manager (still smiling but not as broadly) “it’s a children’s party today”
Me “IN A SPA????”
Manager (mumbling) “yes”
Me “I come to a spa to get away from noise (and I claimed to have three kids for bigger impact)”

I then bought their beautiful green tea (I like the packaging) and stormed out with as much cred as you can with greasy hair and crumpled clothing.

Children’s day at the spa, can you imagine those spoilt bitches getting treatments at seven years old!? Good luck to them in life.



1 comment so far

  1. Andrea on


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