After a few years in the doldrums, today’s hankering for wellbeing and hen-do spa parties has put a spring back in its step
What’s going for it? One thousand feet up in the clouds (OK, drizzle), with barely a street not at a 45-degree angle, Buxton is a town built like a fitness class. Work that body. It’s been a spot encouraging the restitution of health for centuries. The Romans spotted the Jacuzzi-warm water bubbling out of the hills, awfully good for settling the tum; but it was the Georgians who turned Buxton into the Bath-of-the-north, with columns, crescents, domes and, if they’d been invented then, neoclassical hot tubs, too. After a few years in the doldrums, today’s hankering for wellbeing and hen-do spa parties has put a spring back in its step (no pun intended). It remains a place thoroughly good for mind, body and soul, with its elegant streetscape and refined arts scene. There are enough trees and countryside for a forest bath, and enough spas and sou’westerlies for a more watery soak. The result being that Buxtonians are as chilled and zen as a Buddhist monk, as trim and hench as Joe Wicks, with the lungs of a Nepalese Sherpa, the skin of a newborn babe and digestion as regular as a Swiss train. Right?
The case against Rainy. And when it’s not rainy, cloudy. And when it’s not cloudy, misty. And when it’s not misty... you get the picture.
Continue reading...from Home And Garden | The Guardian https://ift.tt/2M2JddP
via IFTTT
