After months and months of winter, summer has appeared in the UK.
Long time readers of this blog will know that over the fence at the bottom of our garden lies a body of water leading into the Irish Sea. The next house is 1/4 mile away, and it’s all farmland, so the ‘beach’ over the fence -often merely a location for various bits of flotsam and jetsam washed up, or a lavatory for cows that have managed to break out of a neighbouring field- is usually free of people (and, it must be said, animals too).
As a result, naturist sunbathing is possible. Swimming too, but I never trust an isolated sea where currents may come into play while swimming alone, so I’ve never done anything more than paddle.
We’ve also fenced off our garden and put a lockable gate at the bottom of the garden. Nothing to do with being overseen while sunbathing nude, and everything to do with the beach being out of bounds to the children, for safety reasons.
Oddly, with the reappearance of the sun has come the reappearance of naturist related media stories. I’ll admit I really struggled for writing inspiration this last winter.
Anyway, ‘Granny’ (Audrey) and I managed to get down onto the beach today for a bit of a walk. We didn’t go fully nude, but a nice topless stroll was exhilarating nonetheless.