Why am I so uncomfortable with the fact that 'Champneys' doesn't require an apostrophe? I am, but I'll go on, anyway.
I knew I wanted to take the time to do some writing while I was away, but I didn't necessarily consider that I'd want to write about where I was - so much for my grand plans to catch up on interrailing in the summer or Jane Austen-esque forays into the peaks in Autumn. Those posts will come, but not today.
Eastwell Manor in Kent also has all the makings of the perfect setting of a 'whodunnit?' (not to put anyone off), so maybe I'll write one those even before those forgotten blog posts. Watch this space.
Only around an hour's drive from London, this was my Champneys of choice based solely on location. Initially, I'd hoped to find some winter sun while taking some time off this January, but when the single supplement was making cruises unaffordable, and I wasn't enamoured by the selection of hotel holidays procured for me by a lovely travel agent, I suddenly had the bright idea of booking just that! A hotel holiday.. but with added spa (and a distinct lack of guaranteed sun and certainly a lack of heat) in the UK as opposed to Portugal or the Canaries. Brilliant.
Well, I honestly had to Google filming locations for The Holiday upon arrival because I was convinced that I was about to spend a couple of days exactly where Jude and Cameron had shared their life stories over lunch and frolicked around the topiary. I was not. But it's filmic, all the same, and I had the most glorious walk around the grounds and beyond lusting after winter light as I chased the sun.
Where the hotel grounds border neighbouring farmland, I'd asked on Reception when I arrived whether anywhere was out of bounds and was advised that the owners of the farm had made a few complaints recently about hotel guests walking through their fields. So, as I walked beyond the boundary of the hotel, I was encouraged to find clearly marked footpaths in one of the fields, and one in particular for the 'North Downs Way'. When spotted in said field by a gentleman from 'estate security' who poked his head out of his Land Rover to question my intentions, I shared with confidence that I was 'following the North Downs Way', or at least a little stretch of it before the sun disappeared. On discovering that I must absolutely be a 'serious walker' (or at least I like to think that's what happened), I was instructed to follow the path along a little further than the Lake House where I'd find the ruins of an old church.
Well, if I was already feeling like I was on the set of a murder mystery, I was fairly convinced at the point at which I approached the ruins with the sun sinking behind the horizon line that I might just be forging ahead into my own murder scene, but I guess if I'm writing this then I must have survived after all (she lives to write another blog post!).
Back at my 'cosy mews', I had a little over an hour before my dinner reservation so decided to venture to the spa. Face red as a radish from sauna and steam indulgence, any makeup I did try to apply for dinner melted almost as soon as it touched my skin, so I settled for just mascara and made my way to the manor house for the restaurant.
I'm getting rather fond of dining solo, and, dare I say, getting more proficient at it too? Book to read between courses and noise-cancelling earbuds at the ready to dull background noise, I was set with my table by the window (probably with some murderer looking in on me from the darkness beyond). Rabbit and pistachio terrine to start, beetroot and blue cheese risotto for main, and possibly one of the best rhubarb and apple crumbles I've ever had for dessert with a glass of red wine and I was set for the evening.
(I won't go into food photography just yet..)
Retired to the bar for one more glass of wine and some writing before bed. Just myself and one other in the bar for quite some time, the sounds of The Smiths over the speakers. So quiet, the bartender kept disappearing and I couldn't help but wonder if I was a different kind of person whether I might have nipped behind the bar to help myself.. I did not. Joined for the last little while by a couple who came in whispering for fear of spoiling the peace. Didn't quite get to find out who won their game of chess before it was time for me to head to bed.
Day two was my only full spa day, and I was slightly worried that I wouldn't know what to do with myself all day.
Even in a place designed for rest and relaxation, sleep evades me recently, so I was not up with the lark as intended, but after an unexpected 3am wakeup, chose to snooze the alarm(s) I'd set for some time before eventually rising to make a cup of Earl Grey.
Possibly the most pleasant gym experience I've ever had; the maximum number we reached (myself included) I think was four? Made for a slightly laidback workout as there was no rush to get from one thing to another before someone else did, but still got me moving and made my Continental Breakfast taste that much better (gosh, why do I always forget how much I love mackerel!?).
Having not planned for such a leisurely morning, no sooner had I finished breakfast than it was almost time for lunch. But I found a moment to sit and read under a lamp in the darker of the two relaxation rooms where I snuggled under a furry blanket and struggled to keep my eyes open. At least as close as one might to a cruise with the food on offer, I enjoyed hummus to start, sea bass for main and a spicy pineapple and coconut rice pudding for dessert (I always think I'm not a sweet tooth until I have really incredible desserts and then I question everything I know about myself) - all divine, and surprisingly none spilled down my white Champneys robe. Because as much as I could very easily be a 'robe life' convert, there is also one very valid reason why I wear all black everything.
With a more generous window of time between activities and a lesson learned the night before, it was time to head back to the spa for steaming and sauna-ing. Stayed an hour or so, then sat poolside to dry off a bit before changing into comfies for a massage. Shame you can't get a spa prescription of 'massage every 3-4 weeks' on the NHS. Gosh, did I need the full-body treatment!?
Then it was back to the dark for a little more of my book and this time to allow sleep to take hold. Bliss.
At dinner, the prosecco flowed and another three courses were consumed: sake-soaked trout, wild mushroom risotto and a deconstructed lemon meringue pie. Delish!
After dinner, I stopped a while at the grand piano which sat at the bottom of the staircase in the foyer. Terrified by its volume and semi-conscious that it might be getting a little late anyway, I soon scurried off to the bar again. Same bartender, same soundtrack. I had to wonder whether he was depressed or hated his job, or indeed both. It was busier this time, too, so I popped my earbuds in while I wrote a little more with my second glass of bubbly. Grabbed a couple of peppermint teabags for the room and decided to call it a night.
Enforced rest. There's something to be said for it, I reckon. I could definitely get used to a life where all I need to remember is when my next restaurant reservation or massage is booked. A full spa day later, and I was feeling Zen. I needed this.
My final day arrived all too soon, and I had some trouble deciding on the most logical order of events.
In the end, I realised I hadn't brought a second set of gym-wear which ruled out that possibility (such a shame), so breakfast was first on the agenda which would give me enough time to spa and shower before check-out. Turns out, with a little less to organise, I can be very organised indeed.
I truly dined solo for breakfast as I was the only person in the restaurant at 8:15 in the morning, so took my time over my Continental spread; this time with added walnuts and watermelon which I had missed out on the day before.
Was back in the spa in perfect time to enjoy 'aqua fit' antics from poolside, and back in my room after a final steam and sauna with ample time to shower and pack before heading to the main hotel for check-out.
The previous evening, I'd only noticed after exhausting any repertoire that I know by heart that there was a small pile of music books lying by the piano. So with half an hour to spare before my 'head in the clouds' massage, and having spotted a book of Einaudi, I decided it was time to face the beast again. Hadn't actually realised how much the wine had helped with my courage the night before. And I'll try not to take it too personally that that no sooner had I started playing than surrounding doors started closing. I had a nice time, anyway.
Unlike the masseuse from the day before, this one was keen for a chat and finished off my treatment by saying 'oh, you're so lovely, I've gone over 5 minutes' - well I'm glad it was good for her.
Back to the relaxation room where I sat alone to read the final few chapters of my book, then it was off to lunch again. Fully clothed this time, I enjoyed my spiced carrot soup, gnocchi and pear and almond cake without fear of spillage.
Had to be out of the hotel by 4pm, so with the sun shining again, I decided it was only right to end my break as it had begun; with a lovely, long walk.
Hills and fields are not usually my preference, but I was very aware of their beauty on this occasion:
the vastness of the land and sky
the blue sky in contrast browns and greens of the fields
the incredible length of the shadows of trees over the ground
the church nestled in the valley that I didn't even know what there until I came over the top of one particular hill
Definitely still a sense of imminent threat in my isolation with nowhere particularly to run and hide (suddenly, I was so very aware of my poor fitness levels at the thought of an escape), I made the best of it and at least had a small herd of sheep as my witness if needed.
Back at the car, I was ready for home.
No, it wasn't a cruise, but I was most pleased with my first spa break and am hopeful that I might have another in the not too distant future.
We all need a reminder sometimes.
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