I’m already reluctant to write this blog because I’m aware that it’s such a cliché but I haven’t quite used up my cliché limit for the year so it’s ok, ok? Last weekend I went on one of these ‘all inclusive’ hotel spa deals where you’re never really sure what’s included (I was terrified that I’d get given a robe and slippers and then find out I was sleeping in the pool changing room). I went to the MacDonald Frimley Hall Spa and Hotel in Camberley. It’s super pretty when you arrive, the exterior of the building is covered with wisteria and overlooks a beautiful garden with pink rhododendrons and visitors sipping Moet.
The front of Frimley Hall
If I’m honest, I don’t really get the whole hotel thing. Hotels generally freak me out. Last time I stayed in a hotel, I was eating take away pizza naked on my bed when a maid came in. Honestly, I’d much rather slob about in an Air bnb so I can make endless cups of tea with FRESH milk, not this UHT rubbish that tastes like it left the cow’s udder during the war. Obviously the reason that I went to the hotel was for the spaaaaaa. I had visions of an attractive man loofah-ing me with an apricot-scented mousse while I lounged on a bed of petals and puppies. Unfortunately, there was no such loofah-ing. The spa was in a separate building which was a bit of a faff because it meant you couldn’t wander around eating cake in your robe (what I usually do at a spa). In fact, you couldn’t eat or drink in the spa area AT ALL. It also meant that when my friend Emma forgot her knickers, she had to wander back to fetch them knickerless. The changing facilities were very intimate, which was fine for people like me who don’t care about stripping off (see here) but not so much for those of a more prudish disposition. It did get to a point where I’d lost count of how many boobs I’d accidentally elbowed.
Me and my friend Emma
When you eventually got to the pool, it was as busy as Oxford Street on a Saturday. There weren’t enough loungers for everyone so we just ended up lounging on the floor next to the pool as there wasn’t much room in the pool either. Being a Saturday, there were quite a lot of families there and a couple of hen parties, which we didn’t mind, but it wasn’t quite the relaxing, serene spa break we were expecting. Especially when the hen party started having a fight with their willy water pistols. We decided to abandon the spa and have a scone instead.
My lovely hake and cous cous dinner
One of the best things about the stay was the 3 course dinner we had in the evening. Especially because they brought bread round with little tongs. I had grilled hake with a black olive cous cous and samphire and it was lovely. They even put a pansy on my pudding.
Apart from the fact that we were charged a fiver for a bottle of water and had a view of the waiters on their fag break, our room was really nice. Breakfast the next morning was a bit stressful, mainly due to the guests that were inexperienced in using a toast conveyor belt and set the smoke alarm off. The staff were lovely and couldn’t do more for us, despite overhearing an older bloke saying ‘Where the hell are my mushrooms?! Bloody hell, you wouldn’t get this with a McMuffin…’
The pool at Frimley Hall spa
After breakfast we attempted the spa again and much to our luck it was a lot quieter on the Sunday. We even managed to get loungers! We both had massages scheduled in so we filled out the appropriate forms. I mean honestly, what is the point of these forms? They ask you every intimate detail of your whole life; when your ex-boyfriend broke up with you, when you last had a bra fitting, your GCSE results etc. Ridiculous. The massage in itself was absolutely lovely, apart from I do still find it odd when they dig their elbows into your neck, but still. My FAVOURITE thing was the relaxation room. Ahhh the relaxation room. A dimly lit room with a circle of weird massage chairs, blankets and an endless supply of herbal tea. It was so dark I had to get my phone torch out to decipher which button was for the hot water (health and safety nightmare) but when I finally did, my lemon and ginger tea went down an absolute treat.
When we returned to the pool, the hen party had fled. But in their haste (and bad taste) they’d left behind one of their willy water pistols! I picked it up purely for snapchat purposes, but the middle aged women in their Fit-Flops did not seem best impressed when my dodgy aim missed my friend Emma and squirted their copy of Country Life by accident. Safe to say I won’t be invited back to the MacDonald Frimley Hall Spa and Hotel. It was a lovely mini spa break, with good food and a great massage. Definitely worth booking up for the bargain price of £90!