Editor-at-large Alexi Duggins at your mercy. So you had him entrust his health to a room made of salt.
What’s your favourite kind of salt? Rock? Bit 2003. Maldon? Too obvious. Table salt? What are you: radio rental?
No, there’s only one answer for right thinking people. And that answer is ‘Who has a favourite kind of salt?’ The proprietors of London’s only salt grotto, apparently.For Acton’s Adalex Clinic for‘ Health Improvement Services’, the only saltworth its salt is Himalayan: ‘some of the purest in the world’. So naturally, they’ve clad aroom with illuminated crystals of the stuff, then packed it full of chintzy sunloungers. Thus you can lie back and spend an hour inhaling air rich in minerals and receive ‘psychophysical comfort in daily life’. Which is excellent, because nothing’ worse than health benefits that only affect weekly life. The floor’s covered in so much salt that it’s a paradise for mal-coordinated redwine fans: you could slop around gallons of plonk and still have enough dry crystals to commit slug genocide. A seaside whiff emanates from a weave of salt-crusted twigs that jut out of a trickling waterfall.
Over a PA, a panpipe version of ‘Just the Way You Are’ wibbles away. This has nothing to do with salt, as far as I can tell, unless they’re trying to make my ears cry. But how’s my health? Well, in half an hour, the only difference is that my lips taste like ready salted. But after another 20 minutes of lying down, I begin to feel very, very snoozy. In fact, it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open. And you know what one of the supposed benefits is? Relaxation. So perhaps it works. Maybe this the start of a salty medical future in which huffing Marmite cures lung cancer. Perchance open-heart surgery will be rendered obsolete by the efficacy of smearing anchovies on living room walls. And, just maybe, bubonic plague will be vanquished by powerful Spam poultices. Who knows? I’d certainly advocate taking it all with a pinch of salt.