EDP Column 3
This week I am in my idea of heaven on earth, a health farm. One of the perks of touring in a play is, if there is one near the theatre, I stay at a health farm.
Imagine a five star hotel, with all meals included and being treated gently as though you were convalescent. I suppose one is convalescent really, from life. Wrapped in big fluffy bathrobes, massaged, oiled, pampered and told to ‘lie down and take it easy’, absolute bliss! How I summon the energy to go and do the show in the evening I don’t know.
This week I am detoxing. I’ve had a seaweed wrap, where they paint you with seaweed sludge and wrap you in foil for 20 minutes and while you heat up gently your head is massaged. Then shower it all off and have oil massaged all over; my skin felt like silk.
I had a detox float, where they paint you with a chalky substance and wrap you in plastic. You lie on a warm water bed and gently float and relax for half an hour, before being showered and oiled. I’m also taking detox capsules so there should not be one ounce of ‘tox’ left in my body.
Sophie joined me for a couple of days. There are quite a few mothers and daughters staying here, lovely to have a girly time together. Sophie had top-to-toe treatments in preparation for a bit of a do on Friday, and left looking gorgeous.
I’ve been visiting health farms for about thirty years. My introduction was at Enton Hall, a serious health farm, run by Seventh Day Adventists; strictly vegetarian, no alcohol and doors locked at 10pm. Only warm water for three days, at the end of which the carpet starts to look delicious. Sitz baths, sitting in hot water with your feet in cold and then sitting in cold water with your feet in hot. Ian Fleming visited Enton Hall when writing the Bond books.
My next experience of health farms in the seventies, was Grayshott Hall, what a difference! There were groups of people, starving all day, sneaking out to a local restaurant in the evening for lobster and champagne, followed by giggling, whispered parties in the rooms with smuggled in wine.
Suffering is no longer part of the health farm ethos. Though guests do still behave badly. I witnessed a well known but fading famous footballer, break into the wine cupboard, get roaring drunk and then proposition the lady guests with the line “Would you like to come to my room and see my corkscrew?” Possibly the worst chat up line, in the world, ever. Though he is the exception.
People come to health farms from all walks of life, parties of exuberant Essex girls, celebrating a birthday, retired couples and nowadays quite a few men, sweating it out in the gym.
The smells from the oils of various treatments assail your nostrils as you walk through the dining room. The food is sensational, all low calorie and so beautifully presented, so you can eat until you are full and still lose weight. You can even have wine with your meals, if you’re not detoxing that is.
Over the years I have stayed in practically all the health farms in this country, I’ve not tried the ones in foreign parts but they look most enticing. My favourite is Henlow Grange, from the womb-like comfort of which I’m writing this. I have to leave tomorrow, back to the real world and am looking forward to the next time I’m in a theatre near here and can stay again, or indeed for any other reason I can think of!
