Here in the Cotswolds, every Christmas is WHITE... because all the middle-class women are snorting cocaine at parties. And I'm truly shocked by what THESE school mums get up to...
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The grandfather clock in the corner struck midnight almost an hour ago and I am on my last legs. The school carol service is tomorrow lunchtime when my two daughters break up; I need to finish my Christmas shopping and I’m working until the 24th. But I am the victim of an upper middle-class Ancient Mariner. A woman in a sequinned dress has been speaking at me for at least the last 45 minutes. And the trouble is, I can tell from the speed of the sentences, the way she’s repeating herself and the slightly glazed look in her eyes, that she’s enjoying an entirely different party to me.
![[It first became apparent some women were fuelled by more than protein bars when I was invited to a school mum’s birthday lunch a few months after our move to the Cotswolds]](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2024/12/15/15/93168533-14194897-image-a-13_1734276619621.jpg)
Yes, her evening involves large amounts of cocaine. Welcome to the Cotswolds where – if you know the ‘right’ people – every Christmas is white. We live in an idyllic place. Honey-coloured stone houses nestle in undulating emerald hills, with great sweeps of gravelled driveway leading up to large front doors in muted Farrow and Ball greens and blues. The women are clad in cashmere and Lululemon and organic vegetables are delivered weekly.
But behind the keratin hair treatments and the manicured box hedges is an underbelly of cocaine use that is as everyday as a dog walk or a morning green juice. Users think of cocaine as a hidden vice, something to get you through dull-as-ditch-water social events and stay up late through the fun ones. And never more so than at Christmas.
