Avoid spas at all costs if you want to chill out

A massage from a tanned Adonis clad in a toga? Of course, Madam. Chocolate truffles and champers by the pool? Why not.

Instead the reality is rather different. Quite frankly, a ramble around the Wolvo ring road would be more relaxing.

In particular, spa day packages – those littering deal-of-the-day-type websites – never fail to disappoint. Solitude, serenity and a steamy sauna, all for £29 including a two-course lunch?

Good luck with that one.

Sign up for one of these packages at your peril 'cos you're in for a day from hell.

Naturally, you'll arrive in good spirits, relieved to be away from the daily grind (since you can only redeem these package coupons on the first Tuesday of months beginning with the letter 'J').

But it's downhill from here, starting with the rigmarole of checking in. You'll be served by a vacant-looking receptionist dolled-up with the spa's entire make-up range who'll claim there's no record of your booking.

After 20 minutes of phone calls you're forced to explain (in hushed tones) that your booking is a 'spa day special'. Cue a roll of the eyes as Little Miss Helpful reaches under the counter for a musty-looking ringbinder containing your booking because you don't qualify to appear on the computer system.

There'll be a list of rules and regs so stringent you may as well be on day release from Belmarsh. The list of what's NOT included will be longer than the receptionists falsies and it'll be made clear, in triplicate, that you will need to evict the spa by 3pm.

If you make it through reception without bursting a blood vessel, you'll have to navigate the pool, sauna and jacuzzi, which you're sure looked a lot grander on the website.

Slipping into the jacuzzi you're instantly joined by a man with way too much body hair who insists on bragging about his golfing prowess while trying to ignore the involuntary ballooning of his swimshorts, courtesy of the bubbles.

To escape him you opt for an early lunch, but prepare yourself for paltry portions masking as health food. You might get half a tuna melt panini with 'dressed leaves' and a sad slice of under-ripe tomato.

Still hungry, you'll be called through for your complimentary treatment. If you can resist the lure of sticking your feet into an all-you-can-eat buffet for fish then perhaps you'll chose a 'mini manicure'.

Your beauty therapist, another bright spark, will insist on asking mindless questions such as, 'Are you going out tonight?'. Even though it's Tuesday.

Alternatively, you might have signed up for a 'mini facial'. Notice how everything's 'mini', another reminder of how little you've paid and how little you'll get .

At least with a facial you get lie in a darkened room in mutually agreeable silence save for the sound of the generic spa CD (lapping waves, dolphins, tubular bells).

And so out come the essential oils which all smell very nice but leave your face and hair feeling like you've pulled a 12-hour shift in Maccy D's. Which would probably been more fun than the day you've had here.

But it's five-to-three and there's a stern looking manager doing the rounds so it's time to collect your clobber sharpish and ship out.

Have you enjoyed your day? Gimme a break.

As long as it's not a spa break.