It's a bit odd when you think about it, but while you have long been able to drink the sulphurous, slightly nauseating naturally hot mineral waters of Bath (though even that was stopped during the 1980s for a health scare, since sorted), it's been 25 years since you've able to immerse yourself in it. What a waste of all that free hot health potion, a million litres of it a day at 46 degrees Celsius, just bubbling up and running away down the drains. It's all the odder when you see what big business it is in the rest of Europe, where spa-going is a sybaritic, self-indulgent thing rather than being seen as some form of quack medicine. But since the baths of Bath last closed their doors to the aquatically inclined, we have discovered such things as upmarket health clubs, Jacuzzis and fun pools. Apparently a quarter of a million Brits a year visit continental spas. So it was time for a spa revival over here. But how does space-age Nick Grimshaw fit in with the periwigged world of Richard "Beau" Nash, Bath's dandified 18th century Master of Ceremonies?