As someone who goes camping somewhat regularly, I used to be the type of person who turned their nose up at ‘glamping’. It conjured up images of hair straighteners and cordoned-off areas at music festivals, and ultimately detracted from what I’d decided was the whole point of pitching up: filth, slight discomfort and character-building. I prided myself on tightening the guy ropes, rolling out my ancient sleeping bag and shivering to sleep while wearing four layers – only to wake up drenched in sweat, inhaling a daddy long-legs. But now? I can safely say I’m a convert.
One late spring day, I rolled up to ‘The Nest’, a cute cluster of safari lodges that looked like something you’d be more likely to find in a Kenyan wildlife reserve rather than off a farm track near Peterborough. There were three separate lodges, each tucked into their own secluded spot of grass, gazing out onto the stillness of a vast lake. Here, lambs frolicked with their mothers, birds of prey circled the skies and the water surface rippled in the wind. I’m not joking: it was like something out of a Febreeze ad.
The lodge itself sleeps two to six, with a snug double cabin, a twin room and a king master bedroom. It was undisputedly bougie, but it still had all of the blissful perks that camping brings. No wi-fi. No phone service. No toilet breaks that turn into 20 minutes of TikTok scrolling. Except, there was a toilet – a nice one, too – and there were also crisp white bedsheets, a huge, free-standing bath and a fully-equipped kitchen with a gorgeous oak dining table. Perhaps the best part of it all was being able to roll up the canvas and enjoy the full living space en plein air.
We drank wine and talked about leaving London. I truly felt like a changed woman
My friends and I spent our days exploring the local countryside, gorging on pub lunches – we walked to The Millstone in nearby Barnack for ice-cold pints – lamb spotting and attempting to kayak in the lake (if it were a couple degrees warmer, I’m sure wild swimming would have gone down a treat). When evening came, we played Scrabble on the front decking, drank wine and talked about leaving London. I truly felt like a changed woman.
There all sorts of added extras you can arrange to be set up at your lodge for extra dollar, including a fire pit, outdoor cinema screen, spa treatments and a gorgeous wood-fired hot tub to relax in under the stars. And while The Nest feels suspiciously remote, don’t be put off if you don’t have a car. We took a speedy 45 minute train from London to Peterborough and then took a taxi to the site with no trouble at all.
The Nest starts from £180 per night, with a minimum three-night stay. Find out more and book here.
ICYMI: We went off-grid in a cabin in the forest and I barely touched my phone.
Plus: Forget the Wes Anderson TikTok trend – you can dine on board an IRL art deco train.