The spa has been on the cards since the end of spring. Before this, like everyone in Queensland, my father dreamt of a pool. Not a big pool. Not a pool for show and not a time-and-money pit, like my brother Angus has. On Saturdays, my brother’s pool requires hours of combing for leaves and the fallen limbs of palms so that, on Sundays, his beautiful, tanned daughters can stretch long and listless beside it, as allergic to the water as cats. My father’s dream was for a small pool of easy maintenance. In the end, the fear of looking showy gave him digestive issues and he couldn’t afford a pool anyway. So, the spa.