Well. What can I say? My two-day sojourn in Oxfordshire’s “hottest colonic irrigation clinic” was nowhere near as glamorous as their website suggests. Instead of the expected relaxing daily massages, aromatherapy and maybe a nice pedicure thrown in, I ended up with an IV drip in my ear in a rather basic room. I ended up having to chew through the tube myself as staff forgot to take it out when I’d had enough.
On the plus side, staff are lovely and obviously trained to offer some decent cuddles and the dandelion-and-apple salads weren’t half bad. But the syringe feeding?!
No, this lady is in no hurry to provide the place with more business. For now I will enjoy my special place in the conservatory, watching a bit of Wallander on DVD to cheer me up.
The Bunnington Post 
My Dearest Delores,
I am so terribly sorry to hear of your disappointing experience at the local spa. It is so difficult to find a place that will meet expectations nowadays. Alas, customer service is a dying art.
Syringe feeding, indeed! Those hoomins better be treating you with the respect you so clearly deserve. If anything is amiss, I will be on the first plane over to Oxfordshire to take matters into my own paws. You just say the word!
Be well my sweet!
Your loving friend,
Gozer
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Oh, Gozer! How many hoomins understand our delicate nature? Your friendship gives me strength. That and Bink’s serenade will pull me through! Well, and the thought of sharing a planter with George. And parsnips. Broccoli… but I digress!
Your faithful friend,
D.
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