Mike Hosking loves a bath bomb

YW Magazine, Apr 04 2020

Surely I can't be the only one who gets uncomfortable when people go on and on and on about needing "me time".

It's all a bit wet, isn't it? A bit touchy-feely, a bit "let's have a hug, let's be kind."

But here's the thing: nothing wrong with a bit of time to yourself if you're putting in the hard yards. No doubt about that.

High performers get this. Athletes get this. Job creators get this. You stay at the top of your game by finding time to play back the tape.

So when I get home I like to get the bath running, maybe do a quick clean with the Dyson and pour myself a well-earned chardonnay, if no-one's had the wit to do it for me.

And then I'm off to the bathroom. That's where I do my best work. That's where the thinking turns white hot.

Pulling off my kit, I might catch a look in the mirror and think: "Good nick, son. The whole dragged-backwards-through-a-hedge look's still working for you. Keep it up."

Then as the tide starts rising I'll drop in a bath bomb.

Gun to my head, if I had to tell you my favourite thing in the world: Lush Goddess bath bomb.

I scoffed when the missus first gave me one for my birthday. I pulled off the wrapping paper, took one look and said: "Is this some sort of joke?" 

She said: "It's for unwinding." I said: "Why  would I need to unwind?" She said: "No idea at all."

I put on a bit of a performance reading out the ingredients: jasmine, rose, cocoa butter, dreamy colours that swirl around ever so beautifully making the tub look like an inviting purple galaxy, plastic-free glitters. Vegan and cruelty-free. Like I'm supposed to care.

She said; "Whatever. Why don't you just chuck it in the water and see what happens."

Here's the thing: damned if she wasn't right. I said to her: "A few minutes bobbing in it and you feel like another person." She said: "Human, almost?"

Didn't care for her tone, but also she wasn't wrong. I wouldn't be without one now.

As I'm easing myself into the suds I might close my eyes and inhale the aroma of jasmine, rose, cocoa butter and Mexico in a manly no-nonsense way and then I'll start thinking about the next day's Mike's Minute.

I recognise the great responsibility of having a daily radio editorial that's short enough to fit between Mad Butcher ads and time saver traffic. You need to sum up what's going on in a complex world in 120 seconds and make it as digestible as baby food. You need to provide leadership where others are failing.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but this is not a Government festooned with great talent. A lot of these ministers under other governments would barely be making the tea.

And we're hearing a lot from scientists at the moment. Thanks for that and everything, but I wonder about giving so much attention to so many people who have never run a business, never written an invoice, never done the hard yards the job creators do.

I'm there to be the voice of the people who count: the small businesses, the entrepreneurs, the National party.

So bath time matters, and the right bath bomb matters, and – thank God – we managed to stock up last time we went through duty free. 

But honestly, what a performance. I was carefully not saying the wrong word, so I asked: "Do you have any Lush?" She said: "What?" I said: "Lush. For the bath." She just blinks gormlessly. On we go forever until finally Kate rolls her eyes, lets out a loud sigh and says: "Sweetie, he means a bomb."

Well next thing I'm on the ground with a security guy on my chest and for the next hour we're trying to talk some sense into him and I'm wondering if we'll get our flight, let alone the soap.

Eventually someone in charge sauntered along, took one look at me, and I suppose I can laugh about it now but it was a bit annoying. He waved an airy hand and said: "Oh don't worry about him. It's Paul Henry. He's harmless."