Home Farm Nursery

Home Farm Nursery

Several times on the long journey north, I nearly changed my mind and got off the train. Part of me was keyed up with anticipation of the secret pleasures that might be mine if I went through with this, but the more rational part of my mind was ringing alarm bells and crying “Don”t take the risk!” But then there was a third part of my muddled brain that kept remembering the size of the money order I”d sent off to pay for this weekend – money that was not refundable should I not show up. And on top of that, there was the train fare – another not-inconsiderable sum. To chicken out now would cost me dear – and I would always wonder what I would have missed.

I first discovered Home Farm Nursery through a reference on an Adult Baby website – a link to a page that described, in almost coded terms, the delights offered. There was an address – a post office box number – so I wrote for details under a false name and using a friend”s holiday home I looked after as a return address. The envelope that came back a few days later was classy, the sort that usually contains an investment company circular or an upmarket catalogue. The literature inside lived up to its wrapping, being of a very high standard – well designed, and printed in full colour on semi-gloss art paper.

On the front of that classy brochure was a picture of a fine old country house in a remote part of the country, tucked away amid heather-purpled northern hills. It looked like an upmarket country hotel – which, in some ways, it was. But a hotel with a difference. Inside the leaflet – more a booklet, really – were other pictures. Pictures of private but spacious grounds, of rather different accommodation – converted farm buildings – tucked away in parkland, with interior views of the rooms.