Country Massages in Vogue

Woke up this morning tighter than a Victoria Beckham Wrap dress. I’ve got Writers Wrist (aka Travelling Tennis Elbow). Gerry* has sympathetically suggested that it’s more likely to be Lazy Elbow and I need to write through it. I daren’t mention the sharp pain traversing across the shoulder blades. Who knew writing was so stressful on the body? I need to relax more. (Suggested this to Gerry and he replied, “There’ll be plenty of time to relax when you’re married.” Well played).  So instead of being on holiday in the Maldives, I wandered up to morning coffee at Frangos in the fresh autumn air. I’m reluctant to say this (for fear Gerry will never let me go on holiday ever again) but walking in the peaceful early hours of the morning through country lanes, is on my list of 10 Most Relaxing Things to Do. Hasn’t made the swelling in my right arm/hand go down but all that fresh air has put a rosy glow in my cheeks and bounce in my bottom (or that could just be early Menopause).

Rosy cheeks remained well into the first coffee then the pale pallor that comes from pain shooting up one’s arm returned.  I need a massage! After quick telephone call and gentle stroll around the Lake, I arrived at Leggatt House. The newest massage studio in town. I was curious as George to see inside this Heritage Listed 1870’s building overlooking Daylesford Lake. After sitting empty for over five years, Leggatt House was recently purchased by lifestyle enthusiast, artist and professional builder, Karen Waugh-Raphael.  In the middle of restoring this historic country Manor, Karen has turned the front of  house into a therapeutic Massage Studio with two rooms. This is not a day spa, just massage. The massage rooms are not overly fancy (although the soaring ceilings and decorative architraves are stunning), but it’s quickly apparent that one should not judge this book by its cover.

Having arrived grumpy and stiff like the cast iron gnomes gracing the front verandah, I was unprepared for what happened next. The massage room was completely silent. No music. No dolphins chatting quietly in the background. No sea gently washing onto the shore. Just silence. Silence has an incredible effect on your breathing. Slows it right down. Almost didn’t notice experienced masseuse, Caroline working my knotty back with GPS precision. Gently relaxing major stress areas first before moving the pressure up a few notches. Far too often, deep tissue massage requires a wee Cognac (or two) beforehand. Not here, at Leggatt House.  One sublime hour later, pain in my writing arm had all but disappeared. The rest of my body so relaxed, it felt like I had actually taken that holiday in the Maldives.

There is a theory that massage in the country has more lasting efficacy than in the city. It makes sense. Today after my miraculous massage (no other term for it), I strolled back around the Lake, wading through golden autumn leaves, past sunlight autumn trees and inquisitive geese, up the cobbled path to my little cottage. Poured a glass of Hennessy Cognac and sat on the front porch with my laptop. Compare that to:

Noise. Work. Traffic. Noise. MASSAGE. Traffic. Noise. Home.  Noise.

I’m getting all knotted again just thinking about it. So city folk, here’s a Tweed Tea & Wellies Hot Tip.

One Country massage = Three City massages

No, I didn’t make this up. Vogue told me! What more proof do you need? Meanwhile, Gerry has popped over to tell me that sitting gazing at the sunset doesn’t get a story written. Luckily he didn’t spot the Cognac. Another day in Paradise, as Father likes to say.

*For new readers, Gerry is my brother and editor of Tweed Tea & Wellies