Having a bath has always been one of life’s true pleasures for me. Stoically, I find that bubbles and froth are unnecessary and I don’t need granular highly-scented spheres on a string either: just lots of hot water to ease myself down into and somewhere to put my drink. Recently, Frasier gave me one of those candles that crackles like a wood fire and sometimes I will light that as well if I am feeling particularly fancy.
In recent years, I do make sure that I have some good quality soap: either the translucent amber of Pears or French-milled, a perfectly smooth block stamped with ‘Provence” and perfumed with violets, vanilla or fig. This sounds like a high maintenance diva talking but truly, it’s only late in life that I have justified such luxuries. I suddenly realized that no one, absolutely no one, is going to step forward and insist that I “treat myself”- so now that responsibility rests solely with me.
(Which is completely fine because I am definitely going to make it happen!)
