Saturday, 18 October 2008
A victory for sanity...
Thank goodness the 42 days proposal has been defeated - for details including a great campaign by writers including Ian Rankin see Liberty - I can't really put any of it better.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
Extra time - addendum
Something else I have learned about writing - to read aloud is critical. There is nothing that will expose flaws faster. Reading aloud to yourself is ok, to others is better, and having someone else read your work aloud to you gives yet another dimension of understanding.
Autumnal
Autumnal is a lovely word, I think. This year, what with the (relatively) free time, I thought it would be nice to experiment with a new hair colour for Autumn. Nothing too dark - having gone black for many years I know how bad it is with my pale roots (nobody likes to look at if they are balding) and my 30-something skin tone. And nothing too red - I have enough of that in my cheeks. I was thinking of a nice mellow brunette - ok, I admit it, I was thinking about Carrie's tranformation in the Sex & the City movie.
Lack of funds was a problem, but a kind friend pointed me in the direction of the Vidal Sassoon Academy in Davies Mews, where cut and colour can be obtained cheap or sometimes free provided you have several hours to spend.
Here are the things I knew before I went to the academy:
- They call their customers 'models'. This is because 'guinea pigs' just doesn't have the same ring to it.
- It takes ages - they say around 3 hours for a cut. I was booked for a full day for cut and colour, though in the event it was faster.
- The time taken is partly because supervisors must be consulted at every stage. This is a Good Thing.
- They will press you to have something new and exciting done to your hair. New and exciting for them, that is. Be firm. To be honest, if you just want a modest trim you may be better off elsewhere.
Here are the things I didn't know:
- If you are having a cut and colour (and, I suspect, if you are fairly young or your hair looks a bit tricky e.g. curly, very thick, very trendy) you can be sent down two streets to the Advanced Academy. This is good because they will do the cut and colour by c.1.30 pm rather than taking all day. It's not so good because those advanced students really, really, really want to put into practice their advanced skills. The modest trim is not really an option.
- The Advanced Academy is more spacious. When you arrive, you may think it looks a lot like a traditional salon. Then it fills up with people and is just as manic as the usual academy.
- At the Advanced Academy, you are likely to be looked after by people who are already fully fledged hairdressers. However, my lady was Spanish. Which is fine, but it is disconcerting and even slower than usual when all communication between the person actually dealing with your hair and the supervisor is via an interpreter. Still, it's nice to know the place has an international reputation.
- There was, on my side of the room at least, one supervisor for colour and another for cut. They don't appear to get on too well... this too is disconcerting.
- When the supervisor for colour says he is going to dye half of your hair one shade, and the other side another, do not be alarmed. The effect is more subtle than the words suggest and blends in very nicely thank you. You will not end up looking like some kind of cartoon villain.
- When the pre-colour used to even up your previous dying experiments comes out a crazy neon orange a la Dame Vivienne Westwood, do not be alarmed. This stage will pass.
- On the other hand, when the don of colour shrugs off your request for a modest brunette by saying it will turn your hair green, and suggests that a zig zag of copper will look very nice, do assume that he is completely ignoring your request not to go red. Be aware that this innocent-sounding suggestion will result in your hair emerging a deep auburn.
So I have red hair. The cut is shorter than I am used to, but quite pleasing and very manageable with the aid of a handful of mousse. Suddenly lilac make-up and jewel-colour clothes look great. It's not quite what I went in for, and it's going to be horrifically high maintenance or hard to phase out again, but it is very autumnal.
Lack of funds was a problem, but a kind friend pointed me in the direction of the Vidal Sassoon Academy in Davies Mews, where cut and colour can be obtained cheap or sometimes free provided you have several hours to spend.
Here are the things I knew before I went to the academy:
- They call their customers 'models'. This is because 'guinea pigs' just doesn't have the same ring to it.
- It takes ages - they say around 3 hours for a cut. I was booked for a full day for cut and colour, though in the event it was faster.
- The time taken is partly because supervisors must be consulted at every stage. This is a Good Thing.
- They will press you to have something new and exciting done to your hair. New and exciting for them, that is. Be firm. To be honest, if you just want a modest trim you may be better off elsewhere.
Here are the things I didn't know:
- If you are having a cut and colour (and, I suspect, if you are fairly young or your hair looks a bit tricky e.g. curly, very thick, very trendy) you can be sent down two streets to the Advanced Academy. This is good because they will do the cut and colour by c.1.30 pm rather than taking all day. It's not so good because those advanced students really, really, really want to put into practice their advanced skills. The modest trim is not really an option.
- The Advanced Academy is more spacious. When you arrive, you may think it looks a lot like a traditional salon. Then it fills up with people and is just as manic as the usual academy.
- At the Advanced Academy, you are likely to be looked after by people who are already fully fledged hairdressers. However, my lady was Spanish. Which is fine, but it is disconcerting and even slower than usual when all communication between the person actually dealing with your hair and the supervisor is via an interpreter. Still, it's nice to know the place has an international reputation.
- There was, on my side of the room at least, one supervisor for colour and another for cut. They don't appear to get on too well... this too is disconcerting.
- When the supervisor for colour says he is going to dye half of your hair one shade, and the other side another, do not be alarmed. The effect is more subtle than the words suggest and blends in very nicely thank you. You will not end up looking like some kind of cartoon villain.
- When the pre-colour used to even up your previous dying experiments comes out a crazy neon orange a la Dame Vivienne Westwood, do not be alarmed. This stage will pass.
- On the other hand, when the don of colour shrugs off your request for a modest brunette by saying it will turn your hair green, and suggests that a zig zag of copper will look very nice, do assume that he is completely ignoring your request not to go red. Be aware that this innocent-sounding suggestion will result in your hair emerging a deep auburn.
So I have red hair. The cut is shorter than I am used to, but quite pleasing and very manageable with the aid of a handful of mousse. Suddenly lilac make-up and jewel-colour clothes look great. It's not quite what I went in for, and it's going to be horrifically high maintenance or hard to phase out again, but it is very autumnal.
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Extra time
So, as of today I have officially finished my original 6-month sabbatical (April to September) and am into the 3 months extra time I have managed to scrounge from my employers and my savings account...and what have I learned?
1.This is the life. I like my career - it's really pretty great the majority of the time - but if I could afford not to go back I have to say I wouldn't hesitate. Am I bored, writing alone in the kitchen? Not likely. I am quite good at keeping my own company, but also I have way more energy to go out and see people than when I'm at work. I am also reveling - within reason - in domesticity. Cooking is so much more fun when you aren't already knackered and starving. The single biggest hint that this is the life is how well I am - not a days illness in the six months I've been off. To put that in perspective, I usually catch every bug going, at least four a year. I think my new-found health is partly due to less rush-hour exposure, but primarily to less stress.
2. Notwithstanding point 1 - writing a novel is bloody difficult. Wonderful, exciting and a great learning experience, but not to be undertaken lightly. Especially if you and everyone else has high expectations of the outcome. Needless to say, the difficultly is not unexpected, but it can be very tortuous for a well-read person to experience the manifold shortcomings of their first novel-writing attempt.
3. The nice effect of point 2 is that I am a more attentive and appreciative reader. All the lovely stuff that seems so smooth and easy in a good novel - sub-plots, character development, tension, 'eureka' moments and so on - are not easy at all to write. I now notice what authors are doing a bit more than I used to, and understand how cleverly they are doing it.
4. Writer's groups - I am now in two - are a Good Thing. They give me perspective, but most of all they are fun gatherings of like-minded people, and it's constantly exciting to see other people's work in progress. There may also be food involved, never a problem for me.
5. I am capable of writing a great many words in a day - somewhere between 1,000 and 4,000. Pac Man is the enemy of this productivity, but that won't be a problem any more when I finish the final set of levels on my downloaded game... Can't be long now...
6. If in doubt, go out. To a course, or an exhibition, or a cafe, or a book group, or a writer's group, or dinner, or even the gym. It's all inspiring stuff. I have become the weirdo with the notebook who is secretly recording your conversations, appearance, mannerisms... you have been warned.
1.This is the life. I like my career - it's really pretty great the majority of the time - but if I could afford not to go back I have to say I wouldn't hesitate. Am I bored, writing alone in the kitchen? Not likely. I am quite good at keeping my own company, but also I have way more energy to go out and see people than when I'm at work. I am also reveling - within reason - in domesticity. Cooking is so much more fun when you aren't already knackered and starving. The single biggest hint that this is the life is how well I am - not a days illness in the six months I've been off. To put that in perspective, I usually catch every bug going, at least four a year. I think my new-found health is partly due to less rush-hour exposure, but primarily to less stress.
2. Notwithstanding point 1 - writing a novel is bloody difficult. Wonderful, exciting and a great learning experience, but not to be undertaken lightly. Especially if you and everyone else has high expectations of the outcome. Needless to say, the difficultly is not unexpected, but it can be very tortuous for a well-read person to experience the manifold shortcomings of their first novel-writing attempt.
3. The nice effect of point 2 is that I am a more attentive and appreciative reader. All the lovely stuff that seems so smooth and easy in a good novel - sub-plots, character development, tension, 'eureka' moments and so on - are not easy at all to write. I now notice what authors are doing a bit more than I used to, and understand how cleverly they are doing it.
4. Writer's groups - I am now in two - are a Good Thing. They give me perspective, but most of all they are fun gatherings of like-minded people, and it's constantly exciting to see other people's work in progress. There may also be food involved, never a problem for me.
5. I am capable of writing a great many words in a day - somewhere between 1,000 and 4,000. Pac Man is the enemy of this productivity, but that won't be a problem any more when I finish the final set of levels on my downloaded game... Can't be long now...
6. If in doubt, go out. To a course, or an exhibition, or a cafe, or a book group, or a writer's group, or dinner, or even the gym. It's all inspiring stuff. I have become the weirdo with the notebook who is secretly recording your conversations, appearance, mannerisms... you have been warned.
Monday, 15 September 2008
Pedal your own canoe
A pedalo has a turning circle to rival the London taxi... if the taxi were driving in custard, on rails,with a giraffe attached to the back... While not a useful mode of tranport, though, the pedalo is at least a very superior way to get some exercise on a sunny afternoon.
A shame that the boating area in Battersea Park is not large - in your allotted half hour you can probably fit in around five circuits, which is frankly plenty. But the pedalo also provides the opportunity for schadenfreude over the poor souls who thought they could manage a rowing boat. There is one particular narrow area where most come to grief, while pedalos queue up behind them or demonstrate their superior ability to stop, go backwards and so on. The rowboats have a staggering turning circle in the right hands - they go round, and round, and round, and round, and round...
I rather wish there was mystery shopping for pedalos, but sadly the only 'assignment' I have taken recently was a very prosaic visit to a bank. I have become a mystery shopper in the name of research for a future novel, but am quite enjoying it. Despite the claims of various websites, you will not make your fortune. You'll be lucky if you make £20 per month, before tax. But you will get to lie, mildly, in a good cause. For someone as pathologically, occasionally insultingly, honest as me this should be uncomfortable, but it's oddly liberating. The best performances, of course, are based on truth. I am moderately interested in changing my current account (aren't we all?). But it's fun to be so strongly aware of what someone is saying to you and how you are being treated. Attention to detail is just what usually doesn't happen on either side of that kind of transaction. It's a tiny lesson in human interaction and the things that sustain it, or don't.
A shame that the boating area in Battersea Park is not large - in your allotted half hour you can probably fit in around five circuits, which is frankly plenty. But the pedalo also provides the opportunity for schadenfreude over the poor souls who thought they could manage a rowing boat. There is one particular narrow area where most come to grief, while pedalos queue up behind them or demonstrate their superior ability to stop, go backwards and so on. The rowboats have a staggering turning circle in the right hands - they go round, and round, and round, and round, and round...
I rather wish there was mystery shopping for pedalos, but sadly the only 'assignment' I have taken recently was a very prosaic visit to a bank. I have become a mystery shopper in the name of research for a future novel, but am quite enjoying it. Despite the claims of various websites, you will not make your fortune. You'll be lucky if you make £20 per month, before tax. But you will get to lie, mildly, in a good cause. For someone as pathologically, occasionally insultingly, honest as me this should be uncomfortable, but it's oddly liberating. The best performances, of course, are based on truth. I am moderately interested in changing my current account (aren't we all?). But it's fun to be so strongly aware of what someone is saying to you and how you are being treated. Attention to detail is just what usually doesn't happen on either side of that kind of transaction. It's a tiny lesson in human interaction and the things that sustain it, or don't.
Friday, 12 September 2008
Cafe society
I can concentrate better in a cafe. Honestly. I'm not yet one of those who can write in cafes - the laptop is a bit too old and creaky plus I would feel rather visible - but reading / research in cafes is definitely the way forward. Frank's Bar in Norwich forcibly reminded me of the joy of a good cafe, which is why I was so delighted to find that Dulwich's Blue Mountain cafe has a 'cousin' opposite Gipsy Hill station. They're not entirely flawless - they make most of their money from morning and lunchtime commuters, not from writers in search of tea, so they close at four which is far too early. But they do provide a splendidly quiet but welcoming place to read, replete with nice tisanes and caramel shortbread squares.
I am clearly not the only writer to enjoy cafe society, as having finally tracked down a local writing group I discover that they too have a 'cafe caucus' as well as evening / weekend meetings - I look forward to discovering them on Monday.
While I'm here, I can't help but put in a plug for my other current excitement, Uniqlo. Specifically, their cord trousers. A few years ago I had a pair of cords from Gap. The cord was fine and soft, they fit like a glove and were the perfect smokey grey. I wore them until they died, then mourned. Finally I have a fitting replacement - in fact I have five. You may call that excessive, but I'm making certain I never run out again! I have black bootcut cords for work and green bootcut cords for lazing / country walks. In a more radical departure, I also have skinny cords. In case you are wondering, although happy with my figure I have never been able to get a skinny jean past my thigh, let alone my bottom. But Uniqlo's skinny cords are miraculously accomodating. And they don't cut off my circulation or give me a muffin top. This is why I am now the proud possessor of one pair in black and two in dark grey. I have worn them four days out of every five since purchase. They have single-handedly revived various shirts that I have ignored for years, as well as adding a whole new twist to most of my shoes and boots. Best of all, they were a mere £24.99 each (less in fact with a discount card I came across). Uniqlo also stock the perfect on-trend plaid flannel shirt to go with them, but that's another story.
I am clearly not the only writer to enjoy cafe society, as having finally tracked down a local writing group I discover that they too have a 'cafe caucus' as well as evening / weekend meetings - I look forward to discovering them on Monday.
While I'm here, I can't help but put in a plug for my other current excitement, Uniqlo. Specifically, their cord trousers. A few years ago I had a pair of cords from Gap. The cord was fine and soft, they fit like a glove and were the perfect smokey grey. I wore them until they died, then mourned. Finally I have a fitting replacement - in fact I have five. You may call that excessive, but I'm making certain I never run out again! I have black bootcut cords for work and green bootcut cords for lazing / country walks. In a more radical departure, I also have skinny cords. In case you are wondering, although happy with my figure I have never been able to get a skinny jean past my thigh, let alone my bottom. But Uniqlo's skinny cords are miraculously accomodating. And they don't cut off my circulation or give me a muffin top. This is why I am now the proud possessor of one pair in black and two in dark grey. I have worn them four days out of every five since purchase. They have single-handedly revived various shirts that I have ignored for years, as well as adding a whole new twist to most of my shoes and boots. Best of all, they were a mere £24.99 each (less in fact with a discount card I came across). Uniqlo also stock the perfect on-trend plaid flannel shirt to go with them, but that's another story.
Tuesday, 2 September 2008
Norwich rocks
Topped off an idle August with a really great wedding anniversary weekend in Norwich. Which officially rocks - apparently they have won some kind of international 'liveability' award. I can now see why.
We went there because we spotted a random hotel offer in the newspaper - I have been before but only when too young to notice or working too hard to see anything, but it's a great pocket-city. More shops per square inch than anywhere else I can think of, great culture that they actually make the most of (e.g. the riverwalk), fascinatingly diverse and huge castle museum, lovely deco-style hotel (St Giles House), and a fantastic dinner and live blues at 18 Bedford Street.
Special mention goes to the public art trail of decorated elephants (just finished sorry), particularly the Mondrian stylings of the Parallelephant... The other entrants to the pachyderm parade though didn't make as much effort with naming as the pig parade currently on in Bath. OK pig jokes are probably a bit easier but there are surely plenty of words that could be tacked on to 'elephant' for humorous effect? Just for starters I'm thinking Jellyphant, Elephantom, trunk call... you get the gist.
Extra special mention goes to Frank's bar. We stumbled in for tea & cake on Friday afternoon, went back for Hendrick's gin with cucumber before dinner, thought we might as well have a light lunch their on Saturday, failed to find anywhere better for tea so were back for more cake, and then had Sunday lunch there to round it all off. Their chocolate mandarin cake and sunday blueberry pancakes are out of this world, their ethical policies seem sound, their musical choices are varied but always mellow and their decor and service relaxed. Oh and they were showing the film Labyrinth on Sunday afternoon, which holds a special place in my heart (Bowie in tights... mmm... ok it's wrong but honestly this film had a profound effect on the young me!). Basically I want to live there.
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Urgh my brain hurts
It's just as well I've never succumbed to the tempting lure of the frightfest festival pass - just three films in a row on Sunday made my head go funny, although oddly a sneeze seemed to fix it.
'From Within' was a cool, bleak teen horror. A nice and simple creepy premise about a supernatural suicide virus. However the final couple of minutes, showing the deaths of various townsfolk, were really not necessary. It would have been better to leave it at the point where you realise the curse has not been lifted and still have just a tiny chance that the heroine will stop it in time. Plus, without wanting to go into too much detail, why would the curse creature blow out the fire that the heroine is lighting to burn the spell book, when destroying the book would only ensure it could never be destroyed? A little work still to do, but hopefully as they hadn't finished the credits they will fix this before wider release.
'The Broken' was the third film we watched, so I may have been all out of adrenalin, but it was a bit of an anticlimax. The 'mirror self' is not a new idea, though used here to very creepy effect. It almost worked, but the fact that the heroine was the mirror self was too predictable by far, and more to the point why would a bang on the head make her think she was the 'good' self for so long? And why, when only her short term memory was affected, would she apparently have forgotten her own address so that it would be a big surprise to find out that she lived in Pembridge road?
To be fair, though, few films would stand up to following 'Let the Right One In'. This was the highlight of this year's festival for me and I can't wait to read the book. A totally unconventional vampire tale - as writer John Ajvide Lindquist said, he doesn't even like vampire stories, but found the idea that you have to invite in something that might kill (or save) you compelling. Also a sweet / sad Swedish coming of age story with some very funny moments - as the bully holds our hero's head under the water, we see the feet of one of the others being dragged at supernatural speed through the water behind him as the vengeful vampire comes to save him. One slightly curious point - apparently Eli, the young vampire, is supposed to be a boy - but I'm fairly sure when he peeks at Eli changing those are not boy 'parts'... really do need to read the book...
'From Within' was a cool, bleak teen horror. A nice and simple creepy premise about a supernatural suicide virus. However the final couple of minutes, showing the deaths of various townsfolk, were really not necessary. It would have been better to leave it at the point where you realise the curse has not been lifted and still have just a tiny chance that the heroine will stop it in time. Plus, without wanting to go into too much detail, why would the curse creature blow out the fire that the heroine is lighting to burn the spell book, when destroying the book would only ensure it could never be destroyed? A little work still to do, but hopefully as they hadn't finished the credits they will fix this before wider release.
'The Broken' was the third film we watched, so I may have been all out of adrenalin, but it was a bit of an anticlimax. The 'mirror self' is not a new idea, though used here to very creepy effect. It almost worked, but the fact that the heroine was the mirror self was too predictable by far, and more to the point why would a bang on the head make her think she was the 'good' self for so long? And why, when only her short term memory was affected, would she apparently have forgotten her own address so that it would be a big surprise to find out that she lived in Pembridge road?
To be fair, though, few films would stand up to following 'Let the Right One In'. This was the highlight of this year's festival for me and I can't wait to read the book. A totally unconventional vampire tale - as writer John Ajvide Lindquist said, he doesn't even like vampire stories, but found the idea that you have to invite in something that might kill (or save) you compelling. Also a sweet / sad Swedish coming of age story with some very funny moments - as the bully holds our hero's head under the water, we see the feet of one of the others being dragged at supernatural speed through the water behind him as the vengeful vampire comes to save him. One slightly curious point - apparently Eli, the young vampire, is supposed to be a boy - but I'm fairly sure when he peeks at Eli changing those are not boy 'parts'... really do need to read the book...
Saturday, 23 August 2008
Scary edamame
Two blogs for the price of one, to make up for my neglect.
Another August Bank Holiday, another Frightfest! Which means the usual congregation of lovely weirdos in a corner of leicester square, the usual struggle with the Odeon's booking procedures (even in person, you can only get tickets for one film at a time - really good plan for a film festival guys...), and the usual excessive consumption of meals at Satsuma. What could be more comforting that prosaic and salty green edamame beans before the nerve-shredding tension of a films such as 'The Strangers"?
The strangers is not fun. Particularly if you are not a fan of scary masks. It is however an excellent film which avoids trite explanations. A couple return home late, somewhat fragile as she has just refused his proposal. A creepy girl knocks on their door, and it all escalates from there, never letting up for a second. Mid way through I discovered that my shoulders were nuzzling my ears and had to force myself to breathe and think about those wholesome edamame beans. A very good suspense movie, so much so that I almost wish I hadn't seen it - when the neighbours knocking in shelves makes you jump you know you're in trouble.
'King of the Hill' is also an excellent (Spanish) suspense movie. Not quite so painfully tense, maybe because it's open air and daylight, but with really excellent character acting. Our handsome hero 'encounters' a girl in a petrol station bathroom then gets lost while attempting to follow her car. They are both hunted by mysterious gunmen all over a very beautiful hill. The cinematography does full justice to the really stunning autumnal landscape, as our 'hero' falls to bits in a convincing and sometimes funny way. Initially when the shooters are revealed as children I was not impressed, but the film manages to carry it off. And kudos for making the dog, whose barking has heralded terror throughout, a big soft family pet in the end!
The first film we saw was 'I know how many runs you scored last summer'. This one was a world premiere and to be honest it's not really ready for a wider audience. Barely full length, and barely a plot, it still manages to be a horribly gory but often extremely funny film. They could make even more of the cricket motif, but their use of 'howzat' had to be seen to be believed. The main plot flaw, though, is that if just one of the characters screamed when they ought to, all the rest would have been forewarned. Oh and the directors are very proud of their soft porn shower scene - personally, I think that their body double for a british / aussie cop should have had real breasts...
Another August Bank Holiday, another Frightfest! Which means the usual congregation of lovely weirdos in a corner of leicester square, the usual struggle with the Odeon's booking procedures (even in person, you can only get tickets for one film at a time - really good plan for a film festival guys...), and the usual excessive consumption of meals at Satsuma. What could be more comforting that prosaic and salty green edamame beans before the nerve-shredding tension of a films such as 'The Strangers"?
The strangers is not fun. Particularly if you are not a fan of scary masks. It is however an excellent film which avoids trite explanations. A couple return home late, somewhat fragile as she has just refused his proposal. A creepy girl knocks on their door, and it all escalates from there, never letting up for a second. Mid way through I discovered that my shoulders were nuzzling my ears and had to force myself to breathe and think about those wholesome edamame beans. A very good suspense movie, so much so that I almost wish I hadn't seen it - when the neighbours knocking in shelves makes you jump you know you're in trouble.
'King of the Hill' is also an excellent (Spanish) suspense movie. Not quite so painfully tense, maybe because it's open air and daylight, but with really excellent character acting. Our handsome hero 'encounters' a girl in a petrol station bathroom then gets lost while attempting to follow her car. They are both hunted by mysterious gunmen all over a very beautiful hill. The cinematography does full justice to the really stunning autumnal landscape, as our 'hero' falls to bits in a convincing and sometimes funny way. Initially when the shooters are revealed as children I was not impressed, but the film manages to carry it off. And kudos for making the dog, whose barking has heralded terror throughout, a big soft family pet in the end!
The first film we saw was 'I know how many runs you scored last summer'. This one was a world premiere and to be honest it's not really ready for a wider audience. Barely full length, and barely a plot, it still manages to be a horribly gory but often extremely funny film. They could make even more of the cricket motif, but their use of 'howzat' had to be seen to be believed. The main plot flaw, though, is that if just one of the characters screamed when they ought to, all the rest would have been forewarned. Oh and the directors are very proud of their soft porn shower scene - personally, I think that their body double for a british / aussie cop should have had real breasts...
Warm lemonade
Aargh, sorry, neglect of blog for almost a month very bad. In my defence, for at least the final week of that month I have been ignoring all modern technology in favour of the decorous delights of Bath.
The Thermae Bath Spa is one of those projects that went on far too long, costing far too much money, so that it's a real surprise to find that it is finally with us. I've been twice now, and struggle with my feelings towards it. The problem is this:
1. It is GROSSLY overpriced. Or rather, in market terms obviously they are pricing it just right but in any kind of philosophical sense £22 for two hours swim and steam + £9 for hire of robe, towel and slippers is just a massive rip-off. Residents of Bath do at least get £4 off - which they can then sacrifice to obtain a towel (robe be damned).
2. The design of the place is... problematic. It's tall and narrow, meaning that you have to walk up and down an inordinate amount of stairs to get anywhere (there are lifts - well, two - but I just feel wrong taking a lift in my bikini). And changing is a total nightmare. I can see how their high-tech, unisex changing room plan seemed excellent on paper but it's just no fun in real life. You can only reach the lockers or leave at the end through a changing cubicle, severely restricting your ability to see where you are or find your companions. The lever to open the cubicle doors is subtle enough that several people a day must lose fingernails trying to pry the doors open before they find it. The space between cubicles and lockers is too narrow for people to pass freely up and down, but pass you must because there never seems to be a locker free close by. You then have to move again to find the magic pad that locks and unlocks your locker using your wristband... which remembers your precise locker number but woe betide you if you can't remember at least the rough area it was in. The showers are on a different floor and have shampoo but no conditioner. The whole thing is bizarre and nightmareish.
3. I use the word 'swim' above loosely. One bathes here. There is no room for anything more active. The minerva pool indoors is just a bit dull - the currents that float you in gentle circles are fun for about five minutes but there are two many pillars, stairs etc for any meaningful movement.
BUT - then you get to the rooftop pool. The water is a glorious body-temperature. The long blue floats are like the arms of your favourite chair. The patch of bubbles like warm lemonade is heaven to float in. The views of Bath are spectacular. And so all is forgiven.
The four very large steam rooms are nice too (though the foot spas are pathetic). To the roof! Always to the roof.
The Thermae Bath Spa is one of those projects that went on far too long, costing far too much money, so that it's a real surprise to find that it is finally with us. I've been twice now, and struggle with my feelings towards it. The problem is this:
1. It is GROSSLY overpriced. Or rather, in market terms obviously they are pricing it just right but in any kind of philosophical sense £22 for two hours swim and steam + £9 for hire of robe, towel and slippers is just a massive rip-off. Residents of Bath do at least get £4 off - which they can then sacrifice to obtain a towel (robe be damned).
2. The design of the place is... problematic. It's tall and narrow, meaning that you have to walk up and down an inordinate amount of stairs to get anywhere (there are lifts - well, two - but I just feel wrong taking a lift in my bikini). And changing is a total nightmare. I can see how their high-tech, unisex changing room plan seemed excellent on paper but it's just no fun in real life. You can only reach the lockers or leave at the end through a changing cubicle, severely restricting your ability to see where you are or find your companions. The lever to open the cubicle doors is subtle enough that several people a day must lose fingernails trying to pry the doors open before they find it. The space between cubicles and lockers is too narrow for people to pass freely up and down, but pass you must because there never seems to be a locker free close by. You then have to move again to find the magic pad that locks and unlocks your locker using your wristband... which remembers your precise locker number but woe betide you if you can't remember at least the rough area it was in. The showers are on a different floor and have shampoo but no conditioner. The whole thing is bizarre and nightmareish.
3. I use the word 'swim' above loosely. One bathes here. There is no room for anything more active. The minerva pool indoors is just a bit dull - the currents that float you in gentle circles are fun for about five minutes but there are two many pillars, stairs etc for any meaningful movement.
BUT - then you get to the rooftop pool. The water is a glorious body-temperature. The long blue floats are like the arms of your favourite chair. The patch of bubbles like warm lemonade is heaven to float in. The views of Bath are spectacular. And so all is forgiven.
The four very large steam rooms are nice too (though the foot spas are pathetic). To the roof! Always to the roof.
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