8413/21332 = 0.3943840240015001
The wife took me out on a day date to
the Nirvana Spa. If you ever wondered where Nirvana is, it turns out it's quite near to Reading. Always the last place you look.
Catie has been here before with her friends, but she thought I might enjoy it or at least be able to relax a bit, though I have to say the two hour drive there desperately needing a wee and not passing any service stations was not the greatest start.
Luckily there is a toilet at the Nirvana Spa. They really think of everything.
We don't take enough time for ourselves, so this was a good call and although spas are not my absolutely favourite places I enjoyed trying out all the various pools that were on offer and being shot at with water jets or walking through salty pools and I did start to relax. It was, I suppose, a little bit like the Roman experience of going to the baths and it's nice to keep that tradition going.
The bit I liked best was the Celestial Flotation. I wasn't sure about it beforehand, but it involves lying in a very shallow pool packed full of salt and magnesium and letting yourself float on top of this chemistry experiment whilst looking up at a ceiling with pretend stars on it. Yeah, sounds rubbish doesn't it. But subtle jets in the water keep you moving round the pool and the lights are off and there's no sound and when you get into it your mind drifts and it's a pretty amazing way to spend 30 minutes.
There were smaller flotation pods but Catie and me went in the bigger circular pool, along with two middle-aged ladies. The only thing that stopped this being completely relaxing was the constant worry that I might bump into these women as I floated round the pool. It was OK if I hit Catie, but it would be embarrassing to become entangled with a stranger in a huge salt soup. So every now and then I was snapped out of my waking reverie by having to look up and check I wasn't on a collision course.
But for the times when my mind let go this was a fascinating experience. I had lots of dream-like thoughts and reminiscences, but they were all infused with pleasantness. As I looked at the pretend stars I found myself reciting one of my favourite poems from my childhood. I hadn't thought about it for a long time, but still remembered every word. I could almost picture the actual book and the illustration that went with the poem. But I couldn't, because I can't really picture anything. But I had a real feeling of both the paper and some fleeting idea of the image (not actually that accurate now I look at the real one).
It was Spike Milligan's poem.
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in
But they're ever so small
That's why rain is thin
I loved how that captured my imagination back then and how it did the same right now. I thought of wonderful, joyous, sad, inspirational Spike and how he is no longer in our world. Yet here in a flotation tank in Wokingham he was alive in my brain again, explaining how weather works. Incorrectly, but beautifully. Twenty-one words. All of them words a five year old would know. Yet somehow combined in a way that was uniquely Spike.
I looked at the stars thinking Spike is up there somewhere, before remembering they weren't actually stars, just a light shining through holes in a ceiling. And then concluding that Spike is still up there. In the ceiling. Looking through the holes. At a fat old man floating next to some women he is hoping not to crash into, thinking about his childhood.
I bet Spike hates it. But he's made his bed and must lie in it.
I have given up on my dream of having a personal hygienist in a dental surgery in my house who would clean my teeth for me every day. What I wanted more than anything this afternoon was a massive flotation tank in a newly built wing of my house, where I could float alone, not worrying about crashing into some strangers and think about stuff. I think I could put it down as a work expense. Because it would be my thought palace. A place I could come up with ideas and not be distracted by anything. You can't take your phone or laptop in there - even if it's waterproof, it'd get fucked up by the salt.
And if you don't have any ideas you can pretend you're in Minority Report.
I don't know how long you could stay in there without ill-effect and of course I needed a wee by the end, which was another distraction. But if you owned the pool you could probably just wee in it. What's a bit more salt between friends.
I was properly relaxed after this experience, almost dangerously so given I had to drive home (but not for another 3 hours). But if the flotation pool taught me anything it is that you can just let yourself drift where the currents take you and try not to worry about bumping into anyone. Sadly Catie and I were killed in a huge pile up that I caused. But boy, was it a chillaxing way to go.
