Dulverton becomes an island

Pic: Gina McIntyre

Last night Dulverton became an island.  The rivers burst their banks; the bridges couldn’t cope.  It didn’t surprise me somehow – I could feel it coming as I drove back over the moor.  A restlessness in the river. 

I came through a deep flood on my way into town, thankful I’d followed my instinct to drive straight back from Braunton. I got through fine with the Toyota’s high wheel base but I figured it wouldn’t be long before the road was impassable. 

When the main flood came, it came quickly.  ‘We watched the water rise up against the bridge,’ said Kenny, the landlord of the Bridge Inn. ‘And we cleared everyone out of the pub and put up defences as best we could.  Then, it crested the wall and just swept over in a tsunami of water.’ 

People here were their usual stoical, sensible selves.  Vulnerable people were checked; offers of help abounded.  But rumours spread, the way they will.  Someone had heard there was fire; other people were concerned about relatives they couldn’t reach.  There were reports of cars being swept under bridges, of people stuck in cars.  Social media is great in emergencies, but it can also breed panic.  So we went out to check up on a few things, hopefully to separate fact from fiction, to report back and reassure if we could. 

Adrian patrolled the pubs, of course.  I turned away from the town centre and walked up Northmoor Road to check on a property up there, where the owners are away. 

The river roared alongside me – just a few inches of wall separating us.  It crashed and smashed over the weirs, a maddened beast flinging itself against rock and tree.  The ferocity took my breath away – it was majestic, a barely caged lion and I felt like the stupid child, standing at the bars, almost tempted to poke its finger in. 

The street lights flickered out and I walked on in darkness.  Just me and the river.  Until I came to the place where the road ended in black water.  And found the fire brigade.

‘Are you all right?’ one asked me.

I explained I was there to check on a house and we tried to see the names by torchlight.  Then I stood and stared at the water.

‘You’re not thinking of going across, are you?’

I smiled.  ‘Of course not.’

He gave me a beady look.‘That’s good.’ 

And I bid them farewell and walked slowly back to town, resisting the urge to wander up into the woods, having to stick my fingers in my ears to avoid the siren call of wind and water and darkness and feeling more than a bit guilty for loving the wildness so much, when it causes such destruction and such misery for so many people. 

PLEASE NOTE:  Dulverton is no longer cut off.  Please do continue to support our pubs, shops, cafes and restaurants over the Christmas period.  The Bridge Inn hopes to re-open as soon as possible.  Probably Boxing Day.

The bridge last night (pic The Bridge Inn)

The bridge normally (yes, that's me on the bench!)

The Anchor - pic by Alice Hounslow

Exebridge the following day. Pic by Sam Gardiner

Exebridge following day by Sandy Takel

In which my chakras are brushed into shape with crystal wands

Warning: contains woo woo stuff... (yup, probably more than usual).

It often seems like life is so darn unfair; like we’re being thwarted and vexed at every turn. But I dunno.  Maybe you have to trust that things are working out for the best, in their own weird way.  Maybe we just have to be patient. Maybe everything you really need comes to you - in its own good time.  

I’m still feeling rubbish.  It’s so weird because I really truly don’t get ill normally.  Just the one cold a year to boost my immune system. But this virus thing has been wretched – and weird.  I'm saying weird too much, aren't I?  And I whined – just a little – on Twitter (before quickly deleting it).  But clearly not quickly enough as lovely Nicki Hughes sent me a message saying, simply: ‘This isn’t right. Come and have a treatment – as a treat – on me.’  And she said she’d like to do this new healing treatment on me – so new, it barely had a name.  And I said…well, what do you think I said? J

So yesterday I drove through the wind and rain to the Levels, back to Nicki’s lovely peaceful centre.  And she gave me rose tea and looked at me and looked…worried.  ‘When did this all start?’ she asked.  And I thought back and realized that, curiously, it had all kicked off after I smashed myself on the nose with a kettlebell.  ‘You should see a cranial osteopath,’ she said, and I thought, ‘Doh, why didn’t I think of that.’  Because everything in our bodies and minds is interconnected so if you whack one thing out of balance, everything else can go skew-whiff.  And, honestly, why else would my eyes be permanently brimming, like I’m on the verge of tears?  ‘But I can’t…y’know…’ I said and she said, ‘Yeah, I know,’ and then said she’d do what she could.

So there I was, lying buck naked on Nicki’s couch in her gorgeous room overlooking the garden. Covered with a light blanket, looking like death not even vaguely warmed up (me, not the blanket).  And she started by smudging me (to cleanse out my aura).  Interestingly she placed the smudge bowl on my abdomen and actually touched my skin with the feather, rather than just wafting the smoke over me.  And the energy started fizzing, reminding me that I really should smudge myself more often cos it’s so easy to pick up negative rubbish. 

The treatment itself is really unusual.  The aim is to break up and release any blockages on an emotional or energetic level.  So she handed me a couple of quartz wands to clutch and took me on a guided journey through the chakras, placing the relevant crystals on each chakra and getting me to visualize all the crap being sucked out with my out-breath.  Yeah, I know – it sounds totally weirdy-beardy but, y’know, it was great.  

I’m into shamanic stuff, as you know, and this sent my bioenergy tingling all over the place.  Particularly in my third eye.  And that was interesting cos I figured it would be my heart or throat which would do the fandango but no. Third eye whizzing, pulsating, going totally bonkers, having a party all on its own. 

Anyhow, once we’d cleared the shit from the top to the bottom, she massaged me using specific oils for each chakra and using…crystal wands.  It sounds odd but it’s really very lovely.  I never did tell you about the bamboo massage at Champneys, did I?  Well, it’s nothing like that.  Very gentle, very soothing and there’s this wonderful little click click every time the wands meet. 

Then, just when I was floating off into the ether she plugged me back to earth with hot stones. I’ve always been less than blown away by these in the past but as part of this treatment they worked…a treat.  And they made me realize just how cold I was. Cold to the bone. Cold to the soul. Again.  And really, I could have stayed there all day, cuddling the ‘father’ stone – a big bruiser. 

But all good things come to an end (or so they say)...  and so the SP and I said farewell to Nicki and drove back down the motorway feeling…a bit blissed out really. By the time we got home I was totally wiped.  And so we snuggled us up by the fire and…slept.  Cos sleeping is also healing…right? 

Do check out Nicki if you’re anywhere within kicking distance of Taunton or Langport in Somerset.  Truly – she’s worth the trip.  http://www.waysidehouse.co.uk/

Heaven in Somerset...

I’ve been pretty spoiled over the years. Having worked as a health and beauty journalist (mainly for the Mail and the Telegraph) for decades I've been pampered every which way. I’ve had all manner of facials in all kinds of fancy spas and top-notch hotels.  And, I have to be honest, most of them really weren’t that special. Given the choice between a facial and a massage, I’d generally choose the massage every time. I mean, there’s only so much can be done with a facial, right?  You get your skin cleansed and exfoliated, they slap on serum, chuck on a mask (or ‘masque’), maybe zap a few blackheads, massage in a bit of moisturiser…you know the score.  Or you get wired up and have currents shoved through your skin or whatever.  And yes, often your skin looks a fair bit better but it’s just not…terribly satisfying really. 

In fact, the only facial that really rocked my boat over the years was the treatment (no way can I call it a mere facial) I had from Annee de Mamiel. Now, even if I could afford Annee (which, needless to say, I can't) her waiting list is longer than the phone directory. However…oh yes… I have discovered something and someone rather special, right here in Somerset.

I came across Nicki Hughes on Twitter. Then we met for a coffee in Taunton and I liked her. She seemed like a pretty smart businesswoman with a fair dollop of soul (instead of expanding her salon business and becoming effectively a suit, she decided to pull it back and keep herself hands on with a small beauty and therapy centre based at her home in Curry Rivel, near Langport.)

Anyhow, to cut a long story short, she offered me a facial and, looking at myself in the mirror I figured it would probably be a blessing.  I expected something nice, something functional and professional. What I didn’t expect was to be blown sideways.

She was raving about Repêchage, a US skincare system that relies heavily on…er…seaweed.  Now seaweed is all well and good, and packed with great stuff (vitamins, minerals, trace elements, amino acids, antioxidants) but it’s never really rocked my boat. ‘Nooo,’ said Nicki as we sat on the sofa in the rather bijoux treatment centre (oak floors, marble coffee table and delicious graphic paintings from Thailand).  ‘You’ll love this. They extract the seaweed in a particular way, cryo-crushing it…’

Cryowhatting it? 

‘They spin it in a centrifuge. And seaweed is wonderful because it has a very similar molecular structure to that of the skin, so the body absolutely drinks it up.’

Fair enough.  Anyhow, she got me to fill in a questionnaire and laughed out loud when my answer to ‘How do you relax?’ was ‘Twitter’.  Then she took a good look at my skin and pondered. Turns out Nicki prefers it if people don’t come in wanting a particular facial; she likes to advise and come to an agreement about which would be best. Oh hallelujah! At last! The one thing that really puzzles me is when you go to a spa and are presented with this list of treatments a mile long and are expected to choose.  It’s like a surgeon saying, ‘Look, here’s a list of all the ops I do – go on, you pick the procedure.’ You go to an expert because they’re an expert, right?  Garn, it’s a no-brainer surely?  So she said it was a toss-up between the Four Layer facial which chucks a shedload of moisture back in the skin or the VC5 which is all about firming and toning. 

‘Can I have both?’ I said.

‘Nope,’ she said. And so I went for the VC5 because it sounded suitably technical.

Her therapy room is huge, light and airy, and overlooks the garden. Had a brief love-in with  Bob the dog (soppy hairy cross between a collie and an arctic wolf) before he wandered back out.  Oohed and aahed over Nicki’s singing bowls and insisted on a quick blast - tingles right down the spine. Then stripped off my top layers (many) down to my bra and snuggled under the blankets on the most comfortable couch ever. Why don’t all places have couches that actually hold you without putting your back into spasm?

What happened after that?  Ummm…  Errr…..  Aaaahhhh….   I am usually really really good at remembering all the various stages and steps but not this time.  Cos this wasn’t just a facial; this was healing…serious full-on healing combined with a beautiful, assured touch and gentle caring.  I tell you, the woman is magic, sheer magic.  Most therapists will pop on the mask or whatever and go off, leaving you twiddling your thumbs and listening to the monotonous sub-Enya musak. Nicki never left the table.  I had my head massaged, my arms massaged, my neck de-stressed.  And at the mask bit, she darn well did Reiki on me.  Time just…vanished. 

‘That was…just…ummm…wow,’ I said afterwards.  Actually I think I just mumbled incoherently. Really, I’d lost the power of speech.  

‘Do you do that stuff on everyone?’ I asked. Eventually…I’m editing out a lot of umms and aaahhs here.

‘Yes, but I don’t always talk about it. Some clients don’t really want to know. They just think they’re getting a straightforward facial and that’s fine. 

Did my skin look different?  Not particularly but then Nicky hadn’t promised any miracles. It felt good though – clean and (it might be wishful thinking but) firmer.

I drove home on auto-pilot, so chilled that even the truck pulling out on me as I was overtaking on the M5 didn’t really faze me.  But, once home, I just sort of collapsed into a heap.  It felt like someone had taken a whole pile of crap out of me and dumped it in the bin.  Try as I might I couldn’t keep awake so I threw myself into the bath (with a handful of Repêchage Sea Spa salts).  And then I crawled into bed and…slept.  Deeply, blissfully, refreshingly.  Woke feeling like a whole new person.  And then I looked in the mirror and wow, I looked like a whole new person too. My skin looked clear and almost..glowing.  And so so soft. 

I know this sounds like a total puff but, believe me, I don’t rave about stuff unless it’s really really good.  I’ve got myself into all kinds of trouble with my honesty before but I’m not about to change. If I like something, I say so. If I don’t, I say so (or just keep my mouth shut). But I wholeheartedly recommend Nicki and, if you live within driving distance of Taunton (she’s roughly 15 mins away from the town) I would seriously suggest you get yourself booked in.  She doesn’t just do facials either… I’m eyeing up the massage menu and am intrigued by the idea of Theta DNA healing too.  Plus you can get all the usual beauty malarkey – waxing, tinting, electrolysis etc. Go on – check it out.

Wayside House, Curry Rivel, Somerset. 

Meanwhile I’m checking out the Repêchage range of skincare at home. So far, so good. Find out more (and find a list of local spas/salons using the range) here.