I lie there relaxing, meditating, sometimes praying, sometimes drifting off into a complete void. I have to lock the door otherwise my youngest daughter will still try to get in the bath with me and then there's no peace. A dream come true for me would be to have a huge skylight in my bathroom so I could open it while lying in the bath and stare at the sky at the same time.
Just by chance a friend lent me Sylvia Plath's 'The Bell Jar' to read which has been on my 'to read' list for ages. She describes having a bath so perfectly, obviously a woman after my own heart.
I meditate in the bath. The water needs to be very hot, so hot you can barely stand putting your foot in it. Then you lower yourself, inch by inch, till the water’s up to your neck................I never feel so much myself as when I’m in a hot bath. I lay in that tub...... and I felt myself growing pure again. I don’t believe in baptism or the waters of Jordan or anything like that but I guess I feel about a hot bath the way those religious people feel about holy water.
I said to myself: ‘Doreen is dissolving, Lenny Shepherd is dissolving, New York is dissolving and none of them matter anymore. I don’t know them, I have never known them and I am very pure. All that liquor and those sticky kisses I saw and the dirt that settled on my skin on the way back is turning into something pure.’
The longer I lay there in the clear hot water the purer I felt, and when I stepped out at last and wrapped myself in one of the big, soft white hotel bath-towels I felt pure and sweet as a new baby.'