Relaxation seems to be a foreign idea. Some distant culture thought it up several hundred thousand years ago, and the latest technique, a Himalayan rejuvenation session, is no exception. Based on Ayurvedic principles and a chakra system used by the ancient Egyptians, and by native Americans 15,000 years ago, it's finally reached Westbourne Grove, London, where the English, all clenched up, work-mad, puritan and twitchy, will finally be able to benefit from it.
So I'm giving it a go, although it takes two hours and I haven't really got the time to waste on pampering and self-indulgence, and I don't know or care what chakras, doshas or third eyes are. Hopefully, if I ignore all the blah about souls, spirits, auras, crystals and enlightenment, and just plunge in, this may do me some good. When one's home is like a madhouse, it cannot be all bad to go elsewhere and mellow out for an afternoon. Especially when I am the vata type - tall, thin and fidgety.
I know this because the questionnaire - the first part of the treatment - tells me so. You are predominantly one of three types - vata, pitta or kapha - plus a bit of the other two, and if my chakras get out of balance, I'm likely to become overanxious, nervous and agitated. Sounds about right. I enter one of two chakra rooms, called Bliss and Fulfilment, two states that are not on the cards for me. Wimbly, plinkety music plays in the background. It's enough to send a kapha type running for the exit. But the practitioner is charming. She genuinely believes in what she's doing, I'm nearly convinced, and the music is not her choice. Is she used to bad-tempered old bats coming in here sneering and grousing? Yes. But they usually calm down after about 15 minutes.
"Would you like no clothes or paper knickers?" Paper knickers please. Then it starts with a robust nose-and-face massage. This is for lymphatic drainage and to release blockages in the sinus area. Choose your favourite vapour. Unerringly, I choose energising, rather than calming. I am face down over some sort of a tent, which is filled with the chosen vapour. I soon have a lovely, clear inside nose. Then the outside cleansing. Choose another oil, choice of three. I can then have sea salt and the chosen scented oil rubbed into my skin. "Bosoms as well?" No thank you. Some people like every inch done, just so they don't waste a penny of their treatment, but as I am screwed up, hate having no clothes on and am unable to relax while strange people do things to my body, I have just arms, legs and back done. Then a "Steamy Wonder" tent is pulled over me. The temperature inside rises to over 100C and I'm given an ice pack to place over my heart.
Why? Might I have a heart attack? No. But your heart must always stay cool. Doesn't sound a bad idea, but where is my heart? How shocking that I don't really know. Is it somewhere up on the left? The charming practitioner directs me. While I'm in this tent, the salt and oils will dissolve and penetrate my skin. The hope is that it will ultimately feel like silk.
Finally, oil is poured for about 10 minutes from a funnel above my head on to my third eye, in the middle of my forehead. This is chakra number six, which governs your intuition, nervous system, mental energy and ESP.
The oil trickles down through your hair and over some polythene bag arrangement. Which means that, following this palaver, you either go home looking like a greaseball or go straight into the adjoining hairdressers, who also offer a face and head massage before shampooing, with, of course, the chosen beautifully scented, all pure and natural shampoo. Disappointingly, in this salon, loud pop music banged on, which isn't what I want at my age. Before the Himalayan treatment I found it so enraging that I had to go and sit elsewhere, but after the treatment I felt only mildly disappointed that the choice of music throughout was so frightful.
But Himalayan? Was it created there? No. "We feel that it reflects what happens in the Himalayas," says a spokesperson. Fresh, clean air, blah blah. Then I left and drove into a traffic jam. I didn't mind at all. The two hours seemed to have passed in a flash. The inside of my nose felt scrupulously clear, Daughter has checked my arm and assures me that my skin feels much improved, and I didn't mind at all that she hadn't washed up. But what happens when one is dumped back into the usual enervating swill of life. For how long can those poor chakras stay balanced?
· Himalayan Rejuvenation Therapy at The Aveda Lifestyle Store, 60-62 Westbourne Grove, London W2 5SH, 020-7792 5656. Price £150.
