After all the planning (and then indulgence) of Thanksgiving, it was time to escape the city and chill out. I booked into a morning yoga class at and we skittered out to the country for a relaxing weekend.
Bamford Haybarn Day Spa falls under the umbrella of Daylesford farm shops, the tiny solitary cork plugging the stop in the huge demand for luxury home and lifestyle brands. It’s overpriced, full of desperate housewives, and it gives my husband the heebie-jeebies just pulling into the packed parking lot. But it does the trick with no Williams-Sonoma, Restoration Hardware, or Dean & Deluca around the corner for competition.
The upside is that there’s no better place to pick up your organic veg, freshly baked bread, premium cheeses and basic household staples.
Plus, did I mention they have a spa? Oh, that’s right, of course I did.
The entrance is laden with the requisite line of bath and spa products, and a respectable stash of flimsy, flowing yogawear. I flirted with the thought of how much better my hatha class might be if I purchased a strand of Bamford Indian prayer beads… But I only had time enough for a pot of tea in the lounge before I had to be on the mat.
The spa lounge is a sun-bleached solarium with lots of plush linen loungers to nestle upon as you gaze out on the country landscape – basically, like looking out on my childhood back yard, but all the same, deeply comforting.
Up the spiral staircase and through the knee-walled practice space, is the entrance to the studio.
The hour and a half hatha class was an absolute dream – the instructor tranquilly chanted and coaxed us through the postures, and I came out feeling completely restored.
The other perk to Bamford yoga is getting to do a cheeky bit of shopping before my ride comes to collect me.
Later that afternoon, the boys went for their daily dose of recreation at the local golf course, and I tagged along. They teed up at the driving range, thwacking one dimpled ball after the next into the mist-coated yonder.
They made it look so easy, I couldn’t resist taking a couple of swings myself…
With somewhat less finesse!
I definitely make a better caddy than a player.
As the sun set and the temperature started to drop, we retired our clubs and warmed up by a toasty log fire.
I spent the evening warming my back against the fire, penning my letter to Santa Claus… Maybe those Indian prayer beads will make it into my stocking come Christmas day 🙂