Fit for a princess

Published on Thursday 17 January 2008 14:28

Diarmuid Mac Mur- chada was a rather unpopular man. Notwithstanding his habit of running off with his enemies' wives, the 12th-century king of Leinster also invited the English into Ireland, which upset many of his fellow countrymen who would spend the next few centuries trying various unsubtle methods to persuade them to leave.

To be fair, Diarmuid had only been looking for a bit of army back-up from his Norman pals and probably didn't really mean things to work out quite the way they did, but there is always the possibility when you invite people to come and visit that they might not want to go home. Which is pretty much how I felt after a few days at Monart, an adult-only "destination spa", which lies hidden amid the wooded hills of Wexford, just a few miles up the road from Diarmuid's castle at Ferns.

This is the home of pampering, Irish style: plenty of home comforts and informality, but never at the expense of indulgence. From a dark little cave of a room in the spa where salt water sprays over black ash twigs sending out a marine mist that leaves your skin seaside fresh, to the local fish and homegrown vegetables served at dinner, Monart is a place very much shaped by its environment. Such has been the determination to stick to its roots that it has been built around a towering tree which now provides a centrepiece in the main reception area.

Arriving after a quick flight across the Irish Sea and a couple of hours driving through the gloriously lush countryside between Dublin and Wexford, I reached the turn-off for Monart at sunset. Having foolishly mistimed my arrival in the Irish capital to coincide with rush hour, I was still suffering from traffic jam-induced tension as I took the car off the main road and up the single-track lane towards the spa. Within minutes I was caught up in a rush hour of an altogether different nature: at a standstill again while a herd of commuting cows ambled along the road in front of me – a reminder that I had left the city behind, and ought to leave my stress along with it.

Indeed, the attitude to stress and general well-being at Monart is most definitely of the hale and hearty country variety. While you can choose from a wholesome selection of salads and freshly squeezed vegetable juices, the Monart interpretation of "detox" also extends to a cocktail composed of chocolate, cream and coffee (when I queried this, it was pointed out to me that the beverage concerned contained no alcohol – which was, I suppose, a fair point). Overall, the general trend is towards generous portions of local meat, vegetables, homebaked breads served with cool, ivory-smooth pats of local butter, made, well so I'd like to believe, from the milk of those very same cows that delayed my arrival at Monart's secluded gates.

Now, when Diarmuid abducted Derbforgaill, the wife of his old enemy Tiernan O'Rourke, it was not entirely clear whether his motives lay more in spite or desire. However, the pair settled down in Ferns and lived together there for a number of years – and history has recorded her as being the "Helen of Ireland".

Perhaps Derbforgaill was indeed blessed with a face that could launch a thousand ships, but if not, her ability to lift the hearts of the local sailors would certainly have been boosted by some of the treatments on offer at Monart nowadays.

Given her regal credentials, I'm reckoning she would have gone for the caviar facial, which is what I did in the hope of gaining some princess-style glamour of my own. The website called it an "indulgent anti-ageing treatment with crushed pearls, marine caviar and Escutox, a natural vegetable-based alternative to Botox".

I can't really imagine that it seriously compares to Botox, but people were telling me for days afterwards that I looked healthy and refreshed. I've been trying to track down somewhere in Scotland that uses the same products since I got back.

Of course, there's a good chance that my rejuvenation was also due to all the other lovely things I enjoyed at Monart. It would be hard to fault the facilities on offer, from the big windows in the sauna, which allow you to watch the clouds float by as you heat up, to the candle-lit haven of the post-treatment quiet room, where flames reflected in crystal strands lull you into relaxation. Then there are the tropical showers, the complimentary foot massages, the "light relaxation" room, with inset wooden cubbyholes where you can cuddle up with a cup of herbal tea; and, of course, the evening strolls round the magically lit gardens which just add to the atmosphere of general escapism.

But, while all that chill-out stuff is really quite wonderful, if you're a bit like me and like to be "doing things" there are plenty of activities both in Monart and in the surrounding area. I took a yoga class, went horse-riding at a nearby trekking centre and even tried the Swedish towel ritual in the outside sauna (about which all I shall say is that it made me giggle, even if it was 90 degrees in there and I was close to fainting after about ten minutes).

There were also walks, gym sessions and other daily classes for those who wanted to take part. Then, of course, for the history lovers there are all those heritage sites, including ancient monasteries and Diarmuid's castle at Ferns.

When they told me that the spa was "robe friendly" they really meant it. Apart from dinner each evening, I didn't bother getting dressed the entire time I was within its confines, (nor did anyone else I saw there). So not only did I not have to bother about getting in and out of clothes between treatments, it also provided that rather satisfactory, lazy weekend feeling of lounging about in your dressing gown in the middle of the day.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. As Derbforgaill would eventually shed her princess's gown and leave Ferns for a more simple life at the Cistercian abbey of Mellifont, I too had to cast off my robe and leave the luxury of Monart behind.

Still, it's probably just as well. Another day or two and, like those intractable Normans, I might just have decided to stay for good. smFactfile county wexford, ireland

How to get there

Flights from Scotland to Dublin start from 33 from Glasgow and 36 from Edinburgh. Visit www.ryanair.com

Where to Stay

Rooms at Monart Spa, The Still, Enniscorthy, Co Wexford (tel: [phone], www.monart.ie) start at 115 per person sharing midweek.

And There's More

A caviar facial in the hotel spa lasts an hour and costs 133.

Yoga classes at the Monart Spa cost 15 and last an hour.