My Not So Perfect Life(60)

I nod absently, only half-listening. I’m consumed with an image of Demeter on a muck spreader. Demeter falling off. Demeter covered in muck.

“And the litter,” Steve’s saying. “I mean, I know they like having their picnics and all, but…”

Or Demeter rock-picking. Demeter hoeing a field by hand. Demeter finally getting some payback…

And now an idea is growing inside me. A very bad, wicked idea. An idea that makes me want to hug myself. Because “bespoke” means I’m in charge. It means I can make her do whatever I damn well like.

This is it. At last I’m going to get even. So Demeter wants rural? She wants a “taste of farm life”? She wants “authentic”?

Well, she’s bloody well going to get it.





The routine at Ansters Farm is that after breakfast, at about ten o’clock, we ring a bell and everyone who wants to do activities assembles in the yard. Today that’s all the glampers—and as the families gather, there’s a happy hubbub. They look so photogenic, I take a few snaps for the website—and naturally Demeter’s family is the most photogenic of all.

Demeter is wearing another rural-chic combo of cropped linen trousers and tank top. Her daughter, Coco, looks like a model, with coltish legs in teeny denim shorts and long, wafty hair. I expect she’s been scouted at Topshop already. In fact, she’s probably on next month’s cover of Vogue. The son, Hal, looks cool. He has sticking-up fair hair, an attractive open face, and doesn’t even have any zits. Well, of course he doesn’t. No doubt Demeter knows some miracle organic zit cure that’s only available to people who live in W12.

The husband, James, is lean, with a wry smile and those attractive crow’s feet which men of a certain age get. He’s talking to the children and they’re roaring with laughter, so obviously they all have a brilliant relationship, as well as great looks and clothes and probably talents and hobbies too. He’s in cutoffs and a gray marl T-shirt, and he’s wearing these limited-edition brown suede sneakers which I saw once in Style magazine. He’s clearly as much an early adopter as Demeter is. As I watch, Coco pushes him playfully on the chest, then nestles her head on his shoulder, while Hal taps at his iPhone. The latest version, of course.



“Good morning!” Dad greets the crowd. “And welcome to Ansters Farm!”

From nowhere, a cheer materializes. Dad manages to get the glampers to cheer every week, and I have no idea how he does it. I think he must have been a fairground barker in his past life. Or a ringmaster at a circus, perhaps.

“We hope you’re looking forward to some fun-packed activities today.” Dad twinkles at the crowd. “Kiddies, you’ll be doing Farmer Mick’s obstacle course, with prizes for everyone!”

Another cheer breaks out, and Dad beams. “Adults, you’ll be on the willow-weaving activity with Robin here.” He pushes forward Robin, who is very shy and bearded and is our local willow-weaving expert. (He also teaches madrigal-singing, has a small brewery, and keeps ferrets. That’s Somerset for you.)

“Teenagers, you’ll have to decide: weaving or obstacle course? All I’ll say is that the weaving doesn’t involve homemade fudge….”

I can see Coco and Hal frowning and looking at each other, trying to work out whether the obstacle course is unspeakably uncool or the willow-weaving is even worse. But I can’t get distracted by them. I have to start my Demeter campaign. Even though she didn’t recognize me yesterday, I’m not leaving anything to chance. So last night I dyed my curly hair with a blue ombre rinse—I always used to do it for festivals. Plus I’ve put on sunglasses today. From a distance I look like a total stranger.



“Good morrrning!” I adopt my creamiest accent and head over to Demeter. “We met yesterday. I’m Katie, and I’ll be leading your special bespoke program. It’s a mind–body–spirit program, and it aims to refresh, relax, and restore. Are you ready to start?”

“Absolutely,” says Demeter, and waves at her family. “Bye, guys! Have fun!”

“Now, you requested yoga, as I remember,” I say as we step away from the hubbub. “Unfortunately, we don’t offer yoga at Ansters Farm. Instead, we offer an ancient Druid practice, Vedari. It’s not unlike yoga, though a little more challenging.”

“Vedari,” echoes Demeter. “I’ve never even heard of that.”

“Few people have. It’s very niche, very ancient, very spiritual. Although I do believe Gwyneth Paltrow practices it.”

I can see Demeter’s eyes light up. I knew mentioning Gwyneth Paltrow would press her buttons.

“So, first of all, we’ll be doing a one-to-one Vedari session in one of our open-air spaces. Then we’re going to change location and do our special equine de-stress activity. Then lunch.” I smile.

“That sounds tremendous,” says Demeter, who has been listening intently. “Absolutely what I had in mind. The Vedari sounds marvelous. Do I need any equipment?”

“Just yourself.” I smile at her beatifically. “Just bring yourself. Are you ready?”



Demeter is tapping at her phone.

“Wait a minute,” she says absently. “I want to have a look while we’ve still got signal….”