Glam tent really rocks

"I'll remain childless then," I reply adamantly.

I've been there, done that, worn the muddy, three-day dirty T-shirt.

I spent my childhood holidays under canvas, waking up to the pitter-patter of rain after a night spent on a slowly deflating blow-up mattress so I know there's no fun to be had.

Call me a weirdo but I'd rather have a night in luxury hotel with a spa and shiraz-stocked mini bar. I have absolutely no desire to spend my free-time surviving without life's essentials, such as hair straighteners and honey-roast cashews.

But with the promise of proper beds, a wood-fired pizza oven and a hot-tub, could I be swayed into trying a new-style of camping, or glamping as it's known?

Kate Moss does it, it's how she manages to look so darn hot at Glasto. And if it's good enough for Mossy then it's good enough for me. Hell, I even had some Hunter wellies for Christmas. Maybe they'll finally get an outing as there's not much call for them round the Bullring.

You don't even need to go as far as Glasto to enjoy a bit of pitch perfection. Just an hour from Wolverhampton and less than 15 minutes from Shrewsbury town centre is Uppershadymoor Farm, our home for the weekend. Run by Joy and Kevan Fox, it's an environmental farm, bed and breakfast, with six semi-permanently pitched tents.

I call them tents, they'd be better described as luxury lodges – think dark wood floors, rustic oak furniture and log-burning stove, there's even a proper toilet. It's also stocked with trendy ceramic crocks and utensils, all you could possibly need for a self-catering break.

When our party of four arrived late on a Friday night there were no tent pegs to wrestle with or beds to inflate, just beers to crack open and drink by candle light. This was my kind of camping.

After a decent night's sleep in a proper bed under a plump duvet, we were woken to the sound of Kevan delivering breakfast. Okay, so this was a supplementary luxury but the freshly-cooked sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs, along with orange juice, granola and hot pastries could not have been more gratefully recieved – particularly after one too many glasses of rum the night before.

It set us up for a tour of the farm hosted by Kevan, who bought the 200-acre farm with wife Joy 12 years ago. The tour is just one of a clutch of activities run at the farm and takes visitors through wild fields, woodland and nature spots. On the hour-long jaunt we saw sheep, Shetland ponies, fallow and red deer, not to mention the family's boisterous miniature Jack Russells Bramble and Mouse.

The tour also took in the farmhouse's stunning grounds – complete with trout fishing lake – well-stocked larder shop and rustic chic washrooms, where I was delighted to find plug points for my beloved GHDs. 'Stay yummy, not slummy' the website promised. I say, eat your heart out Kate Moss. After freshening up, our party of four ventured into the surrounding countryside in search of liquid refreshment.

Despite being armed with a map, there were a fair few wrong turns, one angry farmer and one good samaritan along the way but when we finally arrived at the Dorrington Horseshoes we knew our pints were well-deserved.

Arriving back at the tent, the ever hospitable Kevan had set up the site's wood-fired oven so we spent the evening crafting pizzas and then savouring our hard work. Everything takes a bit longer in the country and there are no shortcuts but we all appreciated the slower pace of life. It was a welcome break from the rat race we'd all left behind a day before. We all agreed we'd love to stay a bit longer next time.

The following morning we collected fresh eggs from the chicken coup and sausages and bacon from the larder shop, and knocked up a first-class full English before heading off to the hot-tub.

Situated on the edge of Rainbow Lake and fired by logs, the hot-tub is exactly that, making the idea of a cooling wild swim in the lake uncharacteristically appealing.

Bravely, we all took the plunge. Cold isn't the word – not without an expletive proceeding it. But it was certainly invigorating.

And invigorated is exactly how we felt on departing Uppershadymoor Farm. A weekend well spent.

I think I'll carry on glamping.

Upper Shadymoor Farm, Shrewsbury by Emily Bridgewater