Greece is the word for Thomas Stichbury as he travels to the sun-soaked island of Rhodes to feast, fill up on the region’s rich history and find a sense of calm in an increasingly restless world

Thomas Stichbury

TOP OF THE ROCK: The acropolis of Lindos

LUSH: The Palace of the Grand Master is framed by trees and flowers

ISTOCK/RHODES TOURISM PROMOTION ORGANIZATION

Lying flat on the bed, legs slightly apart and my face buried in a hole, I let out a few melismatic moans, interrupted, intermittently, by the odd guttural grunt. They’ve found that elusive sweet spot between pleasure and pain. Harder? Ooh, yes please. I wonder if I should have disclosed my safe word (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, in case you’re curious), but there is no need. As our session reaches its too-soon climax, this much is true: I’d love to come again. Not like that, you filthy animals!

During a recent, pre-Omicron getaway to Rhodes, in Greece, I was rubbed up the right way by a bone-cracking, knot-pulverising, limb-twisting, full-body Swedish massage that was pretty darn euphoric. And this is coming from an emotionally repressed gay man (yes, another one) with intimacy issues, who doesn’t like to be touched unless highly intoxicated. That being said, I can now add ‘highly flexible’ to my online dating profiles. Just call me the human pretzel, thank you, please.

Granted, it is entirely self-indulgent to bang on about a bloody massage. But the promise of being able to relax, rejuvenate, fully unwind, the great reset, if you will – pipe down, conspiracy theorists – is an integral part of the picture-perfect package offered by the Lindos Grand Resort and Spa, a five-star, adults-only luxury resort catering to couples and individuals seeking a slice of serenity away from the grind and, presently, pandemic-infused anxiety of everyday existence. With nary a squawking kid in sight or earshot, you can also rest your well-rehearsed High Witch glare.