I was somewhat taken aback when my hip, gay, slim hairdresser announced the other day that despite being a chronic asthmatic and even more chronic hypochondriac, he enjoys excellent health - thanks to a weekly massage. I'd always assumed a massage was the one pleasure of the flesh allowed to fat ladies in health farms, or a euphemism for what Labour backbenchers got up to in massage parlours. But no, my hairdresser assured me, the key to good health is lymphatic drainage, which is apparently what massage does.
Ignorant about this important subject, I've been trying some of the bewildering array of massages on offer. Thirty pounds bought me an aromatherapy massage - designed to calm the nervous system and improve circulation with essential oils such as lavender or jasmine. Very nice, but lo! the papers reported the very next day that essential oils can be dangerous. Playing safe, I went for an Indian head massage - an ancient technique to soothe headaches, clear the sinuses and give a stimulation of energy. It was rather like one of those blissful hair washes you get at good hairdressers, but went on a bit longer. An hour later I had - I'm afraid - a headache.
So, what about a straightforward Swedish massage with a bit of lymphatic drainage thrown in? This was £25 - no fancy oils, deep into the muscles, very relaxing. But the key to a successful massage is to find the right masseur. Despite all the drapings, turnings and coverings with towels to hide the rude bits, it can still feel awkward if the masseur is of the opposite sex and seems to be pushing his luck. Even worse is the chatty masseur, who interrupts your deep relaxation with "Didya see EastEnders last night, wasn't it brilliant when . . ." As for those drained lymphs - I'm still not convinced.
