What fun we had at the weekend. It was The Mother's birthday and I bought her a lovely new toy.

It was a toy for grown-ups, and by that I definitely do not mean it was one of those adult toys you can buy (or so I am told) in shops that sell posing pouches and nipple rings.

No, this was an object that could be carried unwrapped through the streets of Brighton without causing the slightest offence. It was a foot bath or, to give it its correct title, an electric foot spa.

How does a foot bath differ from a foot spa? Well, although the aim of both is to soothe weary feet, one is merely a plastic bowl filled with warm water while the other is rather more advanced.

At first glance, a foot spa may only look like a more advanced version of a plastic bowl filled with warm water but just plug it in, slip your feet inside and oh, ecstasy!

A foot spa can give you a tingling whirlpool-style massage to calm and relax your tootsies or, for something more stimulating, half a dozen balls in the base will roll into action to provide an invigorating vibratory massage to ease tense muscles and improve circulation.

Well, that's what it said on the box, although I can offer no personal testimony to its effectiveness, unfortunately.

There are also attachments to remove corns and calluses and give yourself a pedicure so members of the opposite sex will not only fall at your feet but offer to suck your toes as well. Oh, how luxurious!

It would seem the only thing the foot spa doesn't do is remove ingrowing toenails or restore fallen arches.

The Mother was delighted with her present. In fact, I've never before seen her so pleased with something that didn't contain nicotine.

She took it into the bathroom, filled it with warm water, plugged it in and sat down on the edge of the bath, feet submerged, water bubbling.

It was, she said, bliss, absolutely wonderful, although she would keep calling it a foot bath.

Some foot bath, I thought. That thing cost me more than £50. "Can I have a go?" I asked.

The Mother pretended not to hear. I know when she's pretending because you catch a glimpse of unease flit across her face.

I tried again, louder this time. "When you've finished, could I try the foot spa please?"

Now the look of unease had become alarm. "Well ... " she said, "I'm really not very keen on letting other people use it."

"Other people! In case you've forgotten, I'm your daughter - we're related. Why shouldn't I use it?" I asked indignantly.

I don't want to appear mean but a foot bath is a very personal item, not something you want to share, it just wouldn't be hygienic. After all, you might have verrucas," she replied.

"And you might have foot-and-mouth," I said and left her to soak.

When she'd gone to bed I went back into the bathroom but the foot spa had gone.

Next morning I tackled The Mother. "You've hidden it, haven't you?" I said.

"Not at all," she replied. "It's not hidden - it's in my bedroom."

"A foot spa belongs in the bathroom," I said. "Just think what an opportunity you're missing. When we have visitors you could charge them 50p a time to use it!"

She was having none of that. Still, I'm pleased my present has been a success.

For Christmas, I plan to get her something else she can plug in. An electric chair, perhaps ...