September 23rd, 2008
As I was unwrapping my pork chop for one, purchased earlier today from the local butchers, Paul rang from his conference in Switzerland while waiting for his (now) five course dinner to start. Apparently this afternoons agenda was set aside for the delegates to experience the Spa facilities on offer. I listened carefully, while putting 10 Aunt Bessie frozen mash potato disks in the microwave to Paul describing the various ice pools, dips, saunas, Hamman steam rooms and outdoor swimming pools that overlook the mountain range he’d just enjoyed. While cutting open a bag of frozen peas I asked for a little more detail, wondering whether he would pick up on the sarcasm. He didn’t and went onto describe the complicated dress rules the delegates had to follow in each of the Spa areas. The microwave pinged and my chop under the grill started burning as Paul described how each of the Spa areas had men in various states of undress. One particular room had these men of a scientific persuasion (and actually of other persuasions as it turned out) complete in their birthday suit splendour and without a towel between them to protect their modesty.
Paul threatened to hang up when I asked if he’d sucked his belly in for the duration.
Posted in Personal