Oman: more pampering

At breakfast we decided that there must have been discount for skinny women this week judging by the number of pencil-thin ladies in the hotel.

We wangled a complimentary late check-out until 3 pm when Mrs M's spa treatment was booked. I pottered while she sunbathed. Later, after emerging from the sea, I was informed that I looked like a creamed-filled chocolate biscuit with brown extremities and milky-white middle. Charming. The contrast was enhanced by comparison to the surrounding handbag-skinned guests.

After a small lunchtime snack, Mrs M went for her two-hour spa treatment. Meanwhile I re-read about fifty pages of a book before realising I already read the chapters (which is why I don’t read). Mrs M was treated to a Balinese massage which included acupressure, reflexology, stretching and aromatherapy. The post-spa report included unnecessary detail of how a particularly nasty spot had been removed during the facial session.

With Mrs M relaxed, pampered, pummelled, buffed and polished, we checked out at 5pm. An exhausting few minutes later, we arrived home.

I am a very good husband.