Anyway, to help me relax, my husband talked me into having a foot massage. There was some confusion. The woman thought I wanted to stick my feet in a tank full of tiny fish. Apparently they eat the dry skin off your feet and this is perfectly normal here. You sit on a platform, in the middle of a shopping mall with your feet in a fish tank and the fish have a snack - on you! It may be normal here, but it sure as heck wasn't normal for me. I opted for a bog standard foot massage instead.
I then spent thirty minutes being assaulted by a tiny woman from Indonesia. My feet actually felt worse after the abuse she gave them than before. It was clear that she was venting her anger and I was the lucky recipricant. My imagination ran wild. Wouldn't she make a great character in a book? What if she worked on one set of smelly feet too many and lost the plot completely? (Not that my feel smell, you understand!) Who knows what havoc she would cause - or what would happen to the fish. It's a pity I don't write crime, but I have filed her away. One day, you might see a version of her in one of my books.