Belfry 'the no relaxation' Spa

For her 40th, my niece arranged a spa weekend inviting all the women in our family. She went to the trouble of organising our individual treatments, afternoon tea, dinner, overnight stay and breakfast plus something called ‘Fire & Ice’. More on that later.

This is quite some effort anyway, but more so when we are spread throughout the country, have various dietary requirements and mostly haven’t seen each other for a couple of years. 

I arrived first, excitedly walking towards the staff member who looked most like a greeter, although on reflection, he may be a bouncer intent on moving me on quickly. This became a common theme if anyone lingered for any time around the reception desk, which we did often. I announced I was here to ‘check-in for the spa’ and he sent me directly to the spa part of the hotel, a few minutes walk down a stark corridor. There, after confirming I had completed a health questionnaire but seemingly not checking I had, the staff asked if everyone else in my party had completed it. And by the way, where are they? 

They are all grown women; I’m not their keeper nor the organiser, I don’t live with them, we don’t travel in packs, so I have no idea. 

That’s what I should have said; instead, I muttered something about them being on their way and they’ve all had the link to complete, and in case I’m not the organiser.

I was ushered away towards a locker, another few minutes walk away, holding on to all of my overnight baggage, overcoat, birthday present plus a robe, a towel and clutching a must-not-lose locker token. No explanation of what I needed to do with it. Eventually, I found a way to work the lockers, although I had to go to four before I found one that was working, and squashed all my belongings in.

So this was my introduction to the long-established Belfry Spa, a name I recall from people going here in the 80s into 90s. So I’ve now spoken to three staff members and not had one welcome or an ounce of warmth. Sadly this was a sign of things to come.

I eventually made it back to the lovely reception area, beautifully decorated for the festive season. Thinking I must have done my 10,000 steps by now, I think I deserve a coffee and a read of my book while waiting for the others. But they were already in reception by this time, checking into the hotel, which is apparently where I should have been directed in the first place. Such a huge assumption by the greeter/bouncer that I was just here for the day. At the other end of the weekend, I was glad I hadn’t ordered a coffee; it cost £5, More than I’ve paid in London at the plushest of afternoon teas at Rosewood and Fortnum & Masons.

We found out of the 5 rooms we’d paid for in advance, only 2 were ready - at opposite ends of the large building, 10 minutes walk apart. This in itself is OK, as many hotels check-in after 2. But how does that work in a day packed with timed events? Many bags were taken away on a luggage trolly as by now, an hour had already passed and our table for afternoon tea which bizarrely, was offered at 1pm (and now I have checked, is served 12-4. I would have thought the most regular time for this meal is 3pm?). Here things got worse. 

The food was a long time coming, almost an hour until we had everything. The tea and coffee arrived a long time after the food, not first as is customary and polite and only after asking for it several times. How exactly do you enjoy 3 courses of afternoon tea dry, without the accompanying tea (or coffee in my case). Only the cold/alcoholic drinks were offered at first, assuming these were paid for separately. Another assumption, that nobody actually wanted tea with their Afternoon Tea. The clue is in the name.

I was only after a coffee, which eventually came in a little cup whereas the tea drinkers had pots, long after I had eaten my 3 little finger sandwiches. Here we were short-changed as it appeared the food served to three of us at one end of the row of tables (pictured) was only for two, and I couldn’t reach any of it from my seat. I had to keep interrupting people in order to eat. Sigh. Eventually, we had another plate of sandwiches (how many times have I written ‘eventually’?) and they had the audacity to attempt to charge my niece another £7.50 at check out! 

The M&S afternoon that costs about a tenner is far superior. The afternoon tea I’d serve at home is much more luxurious. As my favourite meal, I’ve had a few to learn from.

By the time I got a coffee, there was just time for a quick scone as we had less than a half-hour left before we needed to be changed and ready for the Fire & Ice experience at the other end of the building. Rather than rush the untouched cakes - usually the most special part of the meal - we elected to have them boxed up and have after the experience and before our treatments at 5. They were less than spectacular, and fruit cake heavy rather than the creamy sweetness you’d expect (pictured)

Three times I got up and went to the bar to ask for boxes - there was no question that staff were going to box them up carefully, and deliver them to our yet to be allocated rooms with an apology for serving so late and haphazardly. Dream on. That level of service is beyond Belfry who I’d already given the award for the Most Anxious Spa Treatment I’ve Ever Had some two hours ago.

Once a few of us had managed to box everything roughly into their poorly designed, made to-look-pretty, impractical boxes, it was close to 3. This was both check-in time and spa experience time so I don’t quite know why the Badfrey thought this was a good idea.  Why did they let us book a 3pm experience if we couldn’t even put our belongings safely way in our rooms? Any why offer us tea at 1pm they were too busy to serve it to us in time to get out by 2.30? (Answer - £££)

I’ve included the only two photos I took during the weekend. Ordinarily, I’d have taken dozens, just during the Afternoon Tea. You’ll notice the scones - for me, the middle course, were missing, another thing we had to flag down staff for. Did they not notice they’d served the cream and preserves but no scones?

In an effort to get the weekend back on track, I went to the spa where my belongings were and the rest of the group crammed into the two rooms to get changed. I asked the spa staff three times what ‘fire and ice’ was. With no coherent answer coming, I then asked do I need to get changed? Yes, you will get wet’. OK, Swimming costume then. Was it that hard to just say what it was? It would have been quicker to look at the website.

In the event, we were waved in at 3.30 with no fuss made of our lateness. It would have been nice if one of the lounge/spa staff had just told us not to worry if we’re late. How much anxiety is one relaxing spa weekend meant to evoke?!

This is when I realised everyone else was offered slippers except me. I had read on the instructions to take my own, which I’m glad I did as I was faced with a sea of 30+ pairs of identical white one various places as people dipped out of various hot and cold experiences. It was hard enough to find my white robe, which I was able to spot as I was one of a handful of people carrying a mask to wear in communal areas sticking brightly out of my pocket. Fire & Ice at least supplied the relaxing hour of the weekend.

So now, we were so close to the 5pm individual treatment time, there was barely time to dry off never mind sit and eat cake. Straight to the treatment rooms to get our much needed relaxing treatments. How wrong can this go?

I’ll tell you how wrong. With any sort of massage, which was fine, the advice is always to sit and drink plenty of water afterwards. Mine came in a tiny cone cup, of the type you can’t put down and sip. The care at this ‘luxury’ spa knows no bounds.

Then came the most distressing part of the weekend; I came out of the treatment room to find that my beautiful niece, whose treatment was inconceivably booked an hour after all of ours, hadn’t got one booked after all. It transpired they had changed it to 4.30 but hadn’t got around to tell the person who had bought all of this business to them. The staff member spoke to her like she was an inmate causing a fuss rather than a paying customer celebrating a special occasion. (Not that any person should get treated like this). Any effect of the massage was immediately eradicated. My niece never did get her birthday treatment. This was as ridiculous a decision as it was to place her in a bedroom on the other side of the hotel. Apparently, this was an upgraded room but no fun for her, along with her sister,  to be isolated from the rest of the party.  What a travesty.
Their’s were one of the two room keys that were constantly failing too, resulting in many a long walk to reception and many ticking'-offs for taking up space around the desk. We were endlessly trying to sort out these issues with staff at reception. Why not just come out to the lounge and sit down with us and listen?

The buffet dinner was fine and the breakfast was OK too. Just bizarre that the different food types were at opposite ends of the rooms but I very much enjoyed my quickly served large pot of coffee and self-service croissants even if there was no jam nearby.

This is the most anxious break I've had.  Thankfully I had just come back from a holiday during which I’d stayed in three pretty fabulous hotels.

This account is just my experience, undoubtedly the other 11 in my party have more to say. Any of these issues in isolation would have been palatable as thankfully, my family is full of fun and positivity. The whole cacophony of problems sadly even dented our resilient spirit at times. Thank heavens for family, I wouldn’t change the time spent with them for all the ice in the igloo.

5* for the company 0* for the venue

PS After reading this, you will never visit anyway so have no interest. However, if you do, say if you were paid to go, I’d stay away from the ‘disco’.