Our Perfect Weekend

Some years ago, I booked a surprise birthday weekend for Mrs Blunt, via a site on the internet that specializes in taking bookings at the last minute (I forget the name just now). The package included two night’s accommodation at a swanky hotel in the country, together with all meals and access to the hotel’s wonderful fitness and beauty suite.

It offered staggering value for money (not that I am allowed to make money an object when it comes to Mrs Blunt, you understand), and was substantially discounted from the hotel’s own tariff for the same package.

While there, she was able to have ‘the works’: a new haircut, a facial, a manicure, a pedicure and (even) a full-body waxing. She spent the spare time between these activities relaxing in the Jacuzzi, or sitting in the hotel gardens, idly flicking through copies of her favourite celebrity gossip magazine. In the evenings, she dined from an extensive a la carte menu, before retiring for a post-prandial drink and cigar in one of the hotel’s many spacious, yet comfortably discrete bars.

The bedroom was perfectly appointed, offering spectacular views across the hotel lawns where, in the early-morning dew of a summer’s day, baby rabbits could be spied enjoying their quiet, undisturbed play. The Grand King Size bed in the particular room they allocated to her was a special, and unexpected, treat.

On her return, she pronounced her weekend ‘the best I’ve ever had’.

Since I had taken advantage of her absence by making a rare visit with some friends to Walthamstow Dog Track, followed by a fantastic feed in a Chinese restaurant off Leicester Square, I could only agree.