A Champneys spa break

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.

(..spot the difference.)

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.

 

Self-care is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation.

-Audre Lorde                        

We all need a reminder sometimes.

A dose of Vitamin D

I don't want to appear ungrateful for what I suppose are actually ideal weather conditions (dry, mild, still), but I did get incredibly excited when I noticed that the sun was actually shining in through the window this morning. Yes of course, I've managed plenty of walks over the Christmas holidays, but the sunny ones have been particularly lovely.

Before escaping to Norfolk for a few days over Christmas itself, the sun shone for my annual Christmas Tree Crawl which took me the full distance across London from Gloucester Road to Tower Hill.

Since then, the sun has not really made an appearance. Instead, I have walked along beaches, through woodland, across heath, and over fields (sort of) in the grey. It's still been bracing and a good opportunity for catch ups, though. Isn't walking just the best?

Today was the first day of the holiday that I had nothing planned. So, as soon as I'd ascertained that the sunshine was due to last, I decided it was a definitely a good day for a proper walk. For inspiration, I turned to my copy of '33 Walks in London That You Shouldn't Miss' and found a nice long walk that would take me from Chiswick to Kew. 

I'd actually done part of this walk before when I explored Chiswick House and Gardens in the summer. I can't remember if I ran out of time or energy then, but I took the abbreviated route. Today however, I took time to explore a few of the suburban streets surrounding Turnham Green Station. The architecture is a fascinating mix as cottage-style homes stand next to red brick blocks of flats. Zig-zagging along one street and then another, I spent a while ooh-ing, aah-ing, and generally wishing I had a lot more money.

Back towards and beyond the station, I found The Old Cinema; a treasure trove full of beautiful antique furniture. Always keen for a browse, I spent yet more time ooh-ing, aah-ing, and wishing for more money (even in the sale, vintage / antiques in London have me wanting to run back to the affordable climes of Norwich).

The walk to Chiswick House and Gardens took me past yet more suburban bliss before I was suddenly assaulted by the M4. Here I remembered the way via the underpass, and along the drive which at this time of year was lined with the hope of Spring in the form of Snowdrops.

In August, the conservatory was fairly bare as I'd missed the Camellia's flowering period, so it was especially nice to be back in season to see the variegations on show. I seem to remember being disappointed by the weather on my last visit, so guaranteed blue sky and sunshine was also a proper treat.

The next part of my walk was less than scenic as I was forced this time to walk alongside a fairly busy road. I'm officially rubbish, also, at metres as a point of reference. Tell me what physical features to look out for, or perhaps how long I might have been walking for, but don't tell me that 'after 500m' I will take a turning. It puts me on edge! 500m is further than I would expect it to be, anyway, and this stretch of road felt a little endless but eventually I came to signs of the Thames, and knew I was back on track.

I wandered cautiously along the Thames Path through Chiswick Quay (slightly perturbed by 'Private' signs here, there, and everywhere) and beyond to my final stop of the day, Strand-on-the-Green, which may now have my vote as the prettiest part of the Thames Path, and definitely somewhere I'd like to re-visit when the weather is warmer and I'm frequenting pubs again.

From this lovely little stretch of river, I headed over Kew Bridge and towards Kew Gardens Station via yet more sumptuous suburbia (my appreciation of which suggests I really am getting old) where I'd be hopping back on the Tube to make my journey home.

I hadn't technically forgotten about lunch, but I do have a habit of walking without stopping very much (especially when it's as incredibly cold as it was today, despite sunshine), so it wasn't until the end of my journey that I finally did have a sit down and a little something to eat. I've often passed and wanted to try The Kew Greenhouse, and on a random Friday in early January it wasn't too busy, so I fuelled myself with mac & cheese before making my way home.

Still lots more walks to have an explore of, and another whole year ahead of me. Here's hoping for more sunshine!

A circular walk in Castle Combe

This time last year I was in Bath for a Hen Party. This time this year I was in Bath again for catch ups over gin, walking, and a lot of food.

Today Nic and I visited the village of Castle Combe where I've been wanting to explore for some time. It was a short drive from Bath and when we arrived we soon found a place to park, from where we could then walk into the village itself.

Even before midday, the central street was bustling with a various mix of tourists; families old and young, dog walkers, and a slightly odd number of groups of women around our age. We chose not to linger, but instead began a circular walk out of and around the village that we'd found online the night before.

Armed with a fairly simple map, and some written instructions (always a bit of a challenge in my experience), we followed 'The Street' through the centre of the village before taking a footbridge to cross a small brook into a field full of donkeys that sounded and looked deceptively like sheep from a distance (closer inspection told us that our initial instincts were wrong).

The combination of glorious sunshine and an uphill path along the top of the field and into woodland kept us so warm that coats came off (in November!?). Our instructions told us to look out for gates with stiles which we were pleased to find; and crossed them into a lane leading us through a small hamlet of beautiful mill houses backing onto the brook.

Several pathways had us kicking up more than a few leaves; a welcome reminder of the Autumn which I think has felt especially long and glorious this year! At the end of one particularly leafy path, we came into a field full of actual sheep this time, and carefully made our way through, eyes on the ground at all times in a bid to avoid excessive amounts of poop.

Out of the field, we were back on the road and heading for yet another field and more woodland (there was definitely a theme going on). Our final uphill path was the steepest yet and had us both slipping and sliding, huffing and puffing. Once at the top, the views over trees in all sorts of colours in the low Autumn sun were fairly special.

Having done a pretty good job of following our instructions up to this point, it was here that we took a wrong turn and suddenly found that our circuit had been cut short. Tummies rumbling, we decided that we were actually back in the village in perfect time and enjoyed tea, paninis, and some cake in the Stables Coffee Shop.

Hunger satisfied, we decided to investigate the bit of circular walk we'd missed, but backwards. Once on the path again, we realised that it might just lead us back to the car park. So we followed along the edge of a golf course before coming out between a little row of houses that we'd seen earlier in the day, and were soon back on familiar ground and headed to the car.

Like last year, I managed a spot of Christmas shopping in Bath itself this afternoon and then there was just time for dinner before I had to catch my train. We're not sure how I do it, but I do seem to get lucky with the weather on my visits, and with the loveliest company, too, today was another truly beautiful day.

Walking in half term

... and seemingly through the seasons, too. I'm not entirely sure what moved me to walk every day this week, but once I started, I didn't want to stop. I've walked both old and new paths, and it's been a lovely way to relax, and to catch up with friends and family this half term.

Sunday's walk took myself and my oldest friend to the hilly climbs of Hampstead Heath. Sun shining in the morning, we were feeling optimistic. We met at the Tube station and wandered along through the houses, Olive's historical commentary detailing points of interest. From the residential streets we headed onto the heath itself, took a wrong turn or two, but somehow found our way to Kenwood House where we stopped for a well-deserved cup of tea, and a slice of cake in the setting sun. Shoes caked in mud, and a rosy colour to our cheeks (perhaps heightened by the sudden onset of hail out of nowhere while we trekked across an unknown section of heath without shelter), as we sat down on the train to take us home we decided it was an adventure worth having.

Monday's walk saw my return to Walthamstow Wetlands. Having taken the long way round on New Year's Day, I was pleased to show Georgie the actual way in. Coffee in hand, we took the scenic (but still short) route through Markfield Park, and along the canal to the Wetlands' entrance. Despite sunshine in the morning, by the time we were walking we were met with dramatic skies and gusts of wind strong enough to feel a little unsafe along the water's edge. The sun did make the occasional appearance, warming our backs as we walked and talked, but by the time we had walked around two of the reservoirs, we decided it was time to thaw out in the Ferry Boat.

Tuesday's walk took Steven, Pepper and myself much further afield. Swayed by Time Out's recommendations of beaches 'near' London, we set off in search of Dungeness... words can't quite describe the experience. The weather was not as pleasant as the last two days had been. The cold was deep set, and the wind was beyond strong. Grey skies, and the need for fast-paced window wipers did not fill us with a great deal of hope. Nevertheless, in true British stubborn style, we journeyed on to the coast. Even having read descriptions of Dungeness, I don't think we were quite prepared for just how surreal it actually was. It felt like Snettisham Beach (a familiar stretch of coast home in Norfolk) on steroids. Vast, over-looked by a huge power station, and dotted with fishermen's huts, difficult to tell whether inhabited or not. We drove for a while along the road leading past all of this, stopping eventually at a small parking area with a board detailing what wildlife could be found there. The wind at this point was so strong that it was whistling through the car, and literally shaking us all around. The look between us said it all, but Pepper needed to stretch her legs after the long drive, so Steven braved it. Opening the door, the wind whipped all around the car, tearing receipts and sugar sachets out into the open. No use chasing after them. I stayed firmly put while the madder of us tried their best to run along against the wind. The sight was sure an amusing one, and as they returned to the car, unable to face it any more, the tears streamed; mine from laughter, and Steven's from the sheer force of the wind. We decided to at least stay a while to eat a sandwich and have a drink. And once we'd actually taken our surroundings in a bit more, decided to go for one more attempt at a walk before moving on to somewhere that we hoped would be more sheltered. We managed a walk to the sea and back, which was long enough against the wind, the rain also battering us at this point. Safely back in the car, we ventured on to the more familiar territory of Camber Sands.
Still grey. Still windy. Still absolutely freezing. We parked up in the carpark by the beach, where there were two other vehicles this time, so we at least felt that we weren't completely alone, and headed out once more into the elements. The rain had subsided for a while, so we walked a bit further this time; out to the sea, and along to the sand dunes, before turning back to chase the sun. Watching Pepper skit back and forth across the sand, occasionally risking a paddle in pools around the groynes was definitely worth bracing the cold for. As much as I'd prefer a sunny day on the beach, there's something to be said for sea air at any time of the year.

Wednesday's walk was simply to the gym and back. And later along Oxford Street trying to beat the crowds to the good stuff in the M&S Valentine's selection. It was another cold day, so my walks were brisk, and with purpose.

Thursday's walk embraced the slight shift in weather. An actual day of sun took me on a new walk, around Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park, with a promise of snowdrops. Suddenly it really was much more mild, and as Hanzel and I walked in the late afternoon, the sun cut low through the trees.

Friday's walk was a detour. The sun truly shining, and even the air feeling much warmer, I treated myself to a deviation around a new reservoir in the Walthamstow Wetlands. Through Markfield Park and along the canal again, this time I entered on the other side of the road, passing around the Engine House and on to unexplored lands. As a Chinook flew overhead upon my arrival, I knew I was onto a good thing. Basking in the sun, I ambled along past bird-watchers and families out to enjoy nature in an otherwise industrial, suburban area. Reaching the end of the reservoir, I came upon another tower, this one with the possibility of climbing, which always excites me. Looking out I could see as far as Canary Wharf in one direction, Alexandra Palace in another. Actually pausing my music for a moment, I appreciated instead the persistent call of birds; swans, Canada Geese, moorhens, coots, ducks, seagulls, and no doubt others that I can't name.

Saturday's walk was with cousins. One of my favourite things about having friends and family to visit is being able to introduce them to some of my own favourite places. At the same time, there's an element of pressure as you worry that your tastes are a little acquired, but needless to say, it's usually a success. We began with brunch, before an immediate return to the Wetlands (for a new discovery, it's definitely been a firm favourite spot already this year) where we took almost the exact same route as I had done alone the day before. Our next port of call was God's Own Junkyard, which was busier than ever before thanks to some event or another that was going on in the breweries nearby. Fortunately, we still found a seat in the Rolling Scones café and enjoyed refreshment in amongst the neon. We then found ourselves wandering along Brick Lane, browsing, buying, and admiring street art, all the way to Dishoom, where our journey ended with a feast and full stomachs.

Today's walk was another practical one. To the gym (where I hiked around Kauai, Hawaii), and home via the supermarket, where I picked up bits for my packed lunch and the return to work. Generally another grey day, it didn't feel too much of a waste to spend more of it inside. If the weather is picking up, though, I'll be doing a lot more walking not just on my days off, but on my working days too. Thank goodness for sunshine and a milder climate.

Traditions old & new

It's my favourite time of year again and I'm feeling incredibly festive. Lots of musical occasions, beautiful lights and displays and a good amount of time spent at home have definitely got me in the mood this year. Today I'm left wrestling with a glum sensation knowing that it will soon all be over and eager anticipation at what the year ahead might bring.

Tradition is always an important part of the festive season, comforting in many ways, and this year seems to have welcomed in quite a few new ones; although I am, however, unsure as to whether or not they can yet be referred to as 'tradition' or whether one waits for at least a year or two more to see if they stick...

It all began this year when I was accompanied by a selection of kind and willing members of CCC (City Chamber Choir) in leading some carol singing at school. We sang last year too and the children loved it then but knew no carols. This year then I decided to teach them a few in the lead up to our singing together and the difference was remarkable; words can't quite describe the atmosphere but needless to say, it was not replicated by any of our audiences for other carol singing around the city. As always, carols at Leadenhall Market and St Katharine Dock were freezing but festive!

We have been denied our full two week's holiday this year which has felt a little distressing, especially when being at home for a mere 5 days meant I only had a week left until the return to work. The day before heading home I had decided I would do another one of my Christmas Tree Crawls; a 'tradition' I began last year. I was not, however, anticipating that so much of my day would be taken up getting a spare cat-sitting key cut. Three keys and four trips to varying Timpsons later and I finally had one that worked. In an attempt to make the best of a bad situation, after my initial visits to my nearest branch I decided that my next visit would be to one in the vicinity of trees. So I headed to Holborn where I then also stopped to admire the trees at Rosewood London, Somerset House and the Savoy Hotel; each of them, truly worth the detour.

At last I was on a train home and on Christmas Eve the first of the new traditions appeared in the form of a fry-up for brunch. I'm calling this a tradition in the hope that my mum does it again because it was truly tasty and there's something quite fun about sharing Christmas crackers over bacon and egg. Brunch set me up well for an old tradition, a walk with close friends around Wolferton before exchanging presents and playing silly games (this year, we leapt on the bandwagon at had a go at Speak Out).

Christmas Day brought yet more new tradition as a little while after our breakfast muffin to accompany stocking opening, we were then treated to cooked ham on toast. Two breakfasts down, novelty then ensued as we headed to a neighbour for cocktails and canapés before returning home for roast. We seem to manage to stretch the day out more and more each year but finally, at about half past 6 in the evening, we'd opened everything under the tree and were indulging in the thousandth round of food and hot drinks.

Upon writing this I'm realising that most festive traditions involve food and that theme continues as 'Boxing Day Baguettes' are up next. A while ago in Norwich I had lunch with Mum and Dad at Logan's Good Food Shop. My choice was a Brussels sprout baguette which I enjoyed so much that I decided I'd have a go at making my own over Christmas. I was of course worried that I wouldn't do them justice at all but I have to say, they were just as delicious homemade and went down incredibly well. 

As well as a total abundance of food, home also saw plenty of walks both beach and woodland, a plethora of games and jigsaws and lots of tinkling on the piano. It's always a must to have things back in London to look forward to when I'm torn away from sky, fresh air, peace and tranquillity...

It's now New Year's Eve and while yesterday evening we completed this year's Christmas Tree Crawl from the Tate Britain all the way to Claridge's, tonight we'll be hibernating with good beer and something of the homemade food variety (I'm going to rifle through Nigella (which doesn't sound great) in a minute and see what catches my eye...) to see in the new year before hopefully taking a walk tomorrow; starting as we mean to go on. It's been so long since I've written and I really hope I don't go for this long again any time soon. Expect a resolutions post on the other side when I eventually figure out what on earth they might be.