There is just something about starting your day with something luxurious like a bath.
An election is a moral horror, as bad as a battle except for the blood; a mud bath for every soul concerned in it.
You can’t have an energy policy that means you can only have a bath when the wind blows.
I never take my work home with me, because when there is a baby in the bath at home, and you rush back for bath-time, as soon as you get through the door, you know that work is work and home is home.
Looking back at it now, any objective account of my life is bound to read like a cross between ‘The Wife of Bath’s Tale’ and a travel brochure.
When you’re in the editing room, the dangerous thing is that it becomes like telling a joke again and again and again. Eventually, the joke starts to not be funny. So you have to be careful that you’re not throwing the baby out with the bath water.
It was a lovely feeling, dying. I can remember being in the hospital, all wired up to tubes and thinking, ‘If only you’d take these tubes out, it feels so nice.’ It felt so – it felt like being in a bath of velvet. It was such a nice feeling. Everything felt so soft and floppy, and I wanted to go.
I like to give my inhibitions a bath now and then.
In my childhood, we had only one toilet. It was my dream then to have a good bathroom where you can have undisturbed bath.
I go to the hamam and put henna on my skin and hair. Even when I go to New York, I let the shower run hot to create a steam hamam at my hotel. But when I finish with the bath, I put on expensive French creams.
Elizabeth Taylor taught me that if you do your hair and makeup first then take a hot bath right before you leave, it brings out your inner glow and takes away the powdery look from makeup. I do that right before every date.
What kind of grandmother am I? I’m a ‘three-dessert’ grandmother. I’m a ‘let’s just skip the bath tonight, honey, watch another video’ grandmother.
I have no plans to rock myself to sleep in my bath chair yet.
I’m a war baby: I was brought up with rationing, and my parents always had to struggle. I remember when I was sent to boarding school – Prior Park College in Bath – my father was asked how he was going to pay the fees, and he replied: ‘In arrears.’
They tell me a revival is only temporary; so is a bath, but it does you good.
Bath was hardly known for its rock’n roll. We weren’t part of the London scene or the New Romantics or any of that.
I was told to have an ice bath once, which I did once, and it was the most horrific experience. In my head it sounded like a great idea, so I filled my bath with ice and water, and it was absolutely horrendous.
I am such a bath girl: we’ve gone to some of the beautiful hotels in the world, and if there’s a shower, I’m so disappointed.
I’ve been told the weirdest things: ‘Yeah, I love taking a bath to your music!’ or ‘I gave birth to my daughter while listening to your music.’
Even if you’re meditating, practicing yoga, reading a book, or taking a bath – It’s so important for our wellbeing to just take some time away from social media.
I live on the edge of Bath. It’s really lovely, but its very loveliness freaks me out a bit. It’s peaceful, a great antidote to the craziness of being on tour, but sometimes I feel as though I’ve retired.
After a tough match, I’ll do an ice bath, and that’s really good for recovery because it helps circulation. Sometimes you feel really swollen.
My mom and I used to always get these Bath & Body Works candles but I like anything that smells warm. I love vanilla.
Well, no. I was getting into trouble messing around with it for roles. So one night I went home, cut it down with a pair of scissors and then got in the bath and shaved it all off. I’ve never looked back.
I used to lie between cool, clean sheets at night after I’d had a bath, after I had washed my hair and scrubbed my knuckles and finger-nails and teeth. Then I could lie quite still in the dark with my face to the window with the trees in it, and talk to God.
Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine.
I was born in 1935, so I was quite young when the war started. I remember we were in Bath, and it was 1942. We went down into the cellar of our house, and when we came up, I remember seeing all the glass on the floor where all the windows had been shaken out by the bombs.
I’m a major bath person.
