Malaysia: Massages and facials

Auntie Scarah's utterance, ‘I haven’t got matching underwear on,’ sent a cold shiver down Jamie’s spine and might have scarred him for life. The statement made by Mrs M was in reference to a massage which she was about to enjoy. Later that morning Stewart also went for a massage with some concerns about showing signs of enjoying it too much. Jamie could only titter every time the word ‘facial’ was mentioned. The boys immaturely thought it would be amusing to play fart noises from their iPhones under the hut where their father was being pummelled. Very childish; I tried to stop them.

In the afternoon when the rain had stopped, I took the Other Ms for a long walk without Jamie who had a nail appointment. The Sea Gypsy Resort was very quiet, as was the Sari Pacifica which, despite information to the contrary a few weeks ago, appeared to be deserted, except for a few groundsmen and maintenance staff. There was evidence that it had been tidied up since my last visit, but empty fountains, murky pools, broken lamps and an enormous pile of cow dung in front of the main reception, together with a complete lack of guests, suggested that it was not open or not doing very much business. We continued through the resort to the path that runs along the coast through several Malaysian resorts which were also covered in large amounts of cow poo from a wandering herd we eventually encountered. After an hour-and-a half, with the Other M's sweating like garden sprinklers, we turned round and headed back to Rimba meeting only one local in a towel and a couple of scabby cats.