First hot bath of the season

First hot bath of the season

I have just re-dressed after a very pleasant long soak in a hot bath: the first hot bath of the season. I’d almost forgotten how to do it. Co-op bath soak (i.e. bubbles) and Epsom salts, and as much hot water as I can bear. Unfortunately, the house was seriously cold, and switching on the central heating at 17:45 was never going to warm up the bathroom for a six-o’clock bath. Moreover, the electric underfloor heating needed to have been on for several hours to make a really noticeable difference. (Yes, I should prefer a sauna, or even better a steam room! But that is for another life.) I took a flask of tisane in with me, and some crackers to nibble. I also had my book about the year 1000 AD, and my spectacles. However, I forgot to take into the bathroom a soft cloth with which to de-steam the spectacles, and nail scissors to attack toe nails once soaked. There is a bath mat, and I like to have a hand-towel beside the bath so that I can dry my hands to avoid my book becoming wet.

My bathing technique is simple, but less than entirely peaceful. It involves first running enough hot water into the bath so that there is sufficient depth not to feel silly. The initial quantity of cold water that runs from the hot tap is just about right so that I do not have to use the cold tap at all. Using the cold tap is something I try hard to avoid. I like to step into water that is so hot that it sends a powerful shiver from my heels running all the way up my spine, but yet not so hot that it is painful. After this, I top up the bath with additional hot water every five to ten minutes (by which time the bathwater has already cooled significantly). The more water there is in the bath, the more hot water I have to add to bring back up the water temperature. Sometimes I get so engrossed in the book I am reading that I leave it too long before topping up with hot water, by which time the water in the pipes has gone cold. This puts cold water in the bath, which has to be neutralised with a considerable volume of hot water. This, in turn, fills up the bath, thus precluding further top-ups. It takes attention and practice to get the timing right. The ideal depth of water in a bath is a depth sufficient to allow me to submerge entirely. Beneath the water, I am no longer in the bathroom: I am in a different element, and in my imagination connected to a tropical ocean.