I sink into a plush leather couch. The view to my left is Cape Town harbour lined with white yachts adorned with the names of women lucky enough to have yachts named after them.
"If we're in the mood for a swim, we could just open this sliding door and dive in," I say to my mother, whose birthday we're celebrating with high tea at the Cape Grace Hotel.
It's the perfect end to a day that started off pretty much the way every day should start off -- with a massage. Then there was a facial. And then a manicure.
"This is the life," I tell my mom. "Don't you sometimes wish you married a millionaire so that this could be an everyday day? Darling, we'd be so posh!"
