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"I'm Spa-rticus"


This week, I've gone on holiday to Center Parcs – and where better to spend a few days away than in a Butlins for people with middle-class aspirations?

This isn’t my first trip to the Dutch version of a holiday camp, though it’s my first time as an adult. It’s good to be back. It’s wonderful to have a few days away, as it’s something we seldom get to do.

I kicked the day off by speaking to some ducks (see picture); they weren’t very interested in me.



Over lunch, my wife made a ceramic cow vomit milk into a cup (that's not a sentence I thought I’d ever write).

 

The most enjoyable portion of the day, however, was from 4:00pm to 8:59pm, as we spent this alarmingly precise timeframe making the most of the park’s spa facilities.  

Until 4:00pm, I was a spa virgin. I’d been to the odd Spar or two, but they were a lot less relaxing. Weak jokes side, I loved it. It took a little while to get used to my surroundings and get over my self-consciousness (I don’t make a habit of wandering around in swimwear), but once I did, I had a great time.

I’m not surprised I enjoyed it. It suits my contemplative mindset. It was lovely to wander from one relaxing space to the next, in no hurry. I’d happily spend the whole week there, or longer, though someone would probably have to scoop up my puddle-like remains, pour them into a waterproof envelope and send them back to Hitchin at the end of it. It wouldn’t cost much, as we're only down the road, in Woburn.

My chilled out state was nearly scuppered, when I briefly lost my wedding ring in the changing room on my way out. Still, if I had, it would have given me an excuse to go back in for few hours, to de-stress.
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