Facial

If I were more relaxed right now I'd be dead.

For my birthday the Ours bought me an Ultimate Facial from the Buff Day Spa, a little urban haven beside the Gaity Theatre. As you need all the help you can get in January and I'm taking a trip to London at the weekend I thought I'd book the treatment for this evening.

And they take care of you in this place, no bog standard beauticians here. After I changed into a fluffy bathrobe and snazzy slippers I was directed by a white coated soft spoken girl to the "relaxation room", where I helped myself to fancy herbal teas and trashy magazines. (I stopped buying mags a year ago to give my wallet a rest, so leapt on these free ones.)

Soon after another white coated soft spoken girl appeared and brought me to a warm, low lit room. While I sprawled on the massage table the girl lovingly rubbed a multitude of products into my skin, each one more soothing than the next. After a long shoulder massage and an application of face mask I was left to doze in the half-light glow. While the symphony of the Dublin wind played outside the hug of the blankets kept me at blood heat.

I'm back home now but the feeling has not left me.