Druids Glen Dream

Cream and clean, that’s what it was. A pristine example of a Sunday supplement hotel room that all too often turns out to be just a dull facsimile of the version advertised. It was so clean that I was reluctant to put my bag on the white footstool in the corner, and also avoided the beige chaise longue. I set it on the floor beside the wardrobe. Carefully, I might add, the carpet was a deep buttermilk colour, in case you hadn’t guessed, and I wasn’t sure how clean the boot of my car had been on the journey to Wicklow.

First things first, I arranged my toiletries in the huge bathroom, sampled the selection of complimentaries in their miniature bottles, hung up my dress and stuck the phone on to charge. The usual preliminaries dispensed with, I poured myself a glass of wine and ran a bath. A nice hotel room, chilled wine and a hot bath –la dolce vita in Druids Glen. With some Sade on, I languished in the bubbles for the best part of an hour. There was then just enough time to have one thing on my mind. Getting ready. He’d be arriving soon.

I slipped into the mandatory chemise and stockings, an outfit that seems a bit of a paradox if you ask me. The chemise is to play down any notions of dressing up. It doesn’t smack of too much effort in the same way that a PVC number does, nor does it beg for attention like a Maid’s outfit. It is a very ‘this old thing’ type of arrangement. The stockings, however, have the opposite effect. Nylon promises that may end up being worn all night, while the chemise will undoubtedly be cast aside on the buttermilk pile within minutes of his arrival.

A fresh face of nudes and neutrals with just a trace of liner completed the look. In these situations you have to avoid looking like you’ve gone to too much effort. And finally, a spray of fragrance behind each ear and one directed above your décolletage. Effortless preparation, almost.

A text confirmed he’d arrived. My heart sped up. I checked my face, took a second rinse of mouthwash. The full-length mirror in the bathroom confirmed that I looked ok.  The old chemise looked decadent beneath the white halogen lights. The apricot gloss enhanced my lips.

A knock on the door. Just one knock. His usual. Heart thumping, I was careful to open it slowly, trying to look as calm as I could. But can I ever look calm when he’s made it to a dream room in Druids Glen? For me.