Health Thai Massage, Chippenham; a review

I’m sure I’m not the only person to have walked past the new Thai Massage place on Station Hill in Chippenham and made certain sniggery presumptions about seedy and stereotypical ‘happy endings’.

This isn’t that sort of place at all, and those in need of sexual relief would be best advised to walk on by.   What goes on here is authentic Thai and oil massage, delivered in a clean, safe, and comfortable environment by professional masseuses Nui, the proprietor, and Kadek, her experienced colleague.

Massage is a fascinating and intimate thing to photograph.

I would describe Sue as an advanced customer.  She’d been to yoga before coming in and is very flexible.  I watch in awe as Nui, the proprietor, bends her into shapes I didn’t know were possible, throws her around, treads all over her, pummels her, and pulls her about.  ‘It’s all about energy’ says Nui, ‘I give my energy to her’.  I watch Nui’s face as she thoughtfully considers her next move, feeling her way on Sue’s body with feet, hands, and elbows, rolling on her and pressing on particular points (‘Who does that?’ says Sue, her face a picture of radiant delight as Nui finds just the right place on her inner arm to apply pressure).

Whilst the acrobatics are interesting to watch, it’s the hands that get me.  The hands and the feet and the head.  Knots and pools of tension we don’t realise we have released from places we are rarely touched.  It’s so moving watching the effect that the massage has on Sue, and how she responds to Nui’s alternately firm and gentle manipulations.

‘Oooo!’ says Sue, as yet again Nui hits the spot, ‘Ah’ and ‘Mmm’ and ‘Oh!’.

The massage lasts an hour, during which time Sue, who had been bendy and cheerful enough when she came in, is reduced to a profoundly relaxed and blissed out jelly.

As she is leaving a Mum comes in with her little girl, and Nui agrees a half an hour session with her, and twenty minutes with her daughter.  Not everyone is as used to long vigorous massage as Sue is, and Nui will be careful to ask about health conditions and take it gently with novice customers.   They had a lady of eighty in the other day, men are booking their partners in for sessions, and couples can be booked in at the same time.

Word is clearly getting around that Thai Massage Chippenham is not just for men.

When you have a Thai massage you keep your clothes on, and when you have the oil massage, in which only pure coconut oils are used, the body is covered with towels to preserve modesty should that be required.

Security cameras are installed on the premises for everyone’s safety.

This isn’t a whore house.

Nor is it Champneys.

It’s a respectable no frills establishment in the centre of Chippenham where you can go and get a deep and powerful, or soft and sensuous (that’s sensuous, not sexual), Thai massage and know that you are in good hands.

What a wonderful thing to photograph.

Look at Sue’s face!

Health Thai Massage Chippenham.

Give it a go.

© Gail Foster 16th February 2019

(click on this link for more information)

 

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Swallows

Blue Heart - Copy

for Tracey Lawrence

*

She scans the sky for swallows in the Spring

Down in the Rowdey gardens, by the shed

When I was low and January dead

She held my hand and helped my spirit sing

I saw her soul, a swallow on the wing

Still flying high when other birds had fled

Such loving kindness in the words she said

Such gentleness on earth is everything

She’s in the garden, sitting in her chair

And laughing as the swallows in the skies

Make witty patterns in the Wiltshire air

Like little arrows shot across The Vize

I think that I shall just leave Tracey there

With tears of joy and swallows in her eyes

*

© Gail Foster 2nd May 2017

Not In My Name

 

*

I wonder how she feels today

The Muslim girl I spoke to on the bus

The girl who had so many things to say

About how she feels free and safe with us

I wonder if today she feels the same

Dear child of the warm Damascan breeze

Cry God and Allah we are all the same

Not in my name, not in my name, please

*

© Gail Foster 23rd March 2017

They Never Went To War

IMG_3138

*

They never went to war; they stayed at home

The young, the old, the unwell and the dead

The women who were not allowed to roam

The men who tilled the fields and baked the bread

Those sat in darkness waiting for the rap

Of letterbox, and soft white feather fall

The silence broken by a dripping tap

Dark shadows cast by street lamps on the wall

The little lads who ran behind the train

That took their fathers off to certain death

Who waved until their arms ached in the rain

Who ran until their lungs ran out of breath

Old men who yearned for youth; just one more chance

To feel the blood flow, hear the battle cry

To wear the uniform and take a stance

To stand with other men, to fight and die

The crippled and the mad, the deaf, the blind

Escaped the fate of many thousand men

Some angry that they had been left behind

Some thankful that they’d never fight again

 Women, who with their sleeves rolled ploughed the land

Lit candles, raised the children, hid their tears

Made ammunitions with a careful hand

Kept watch and saved the night time for their fears

So many stayed at home, and stayed alive

And suffered pain and loss, regret and guilt

That they were left, that they were to survive

Within the house such sacrifice had built

Their many names are not inscribed on stone

Those sorrowed souls, so haunted by war’s ghost

Were left to stand and mourn the dead alone

Listening to the trumpet sound the post

*

by Gail

Corbyn’s Muses

Corbyn's Muses

What ridiculous term will the media come up with to describe the women in Jeremy Corbyn’s shadow cabinet?

These are my thoughts on the matter…

*

Don’t call us Babes, such nonsense just confuses

We’re equals standing side by side with men

If you must, then coin us Corbyn’s Muses

Inspiring hearts and minds with voice and pen

We’ve got here through integrity and toil

Intelligence and knowledge of the game

We’ll labour endlessly for British soil

Don’t denigrate us with a silly name

by Gail