AS NATURE INTENDED
By Teresa Ashby
“Remember that naked rambler?” Les said. “I think he had a point.”
“Yes and it got him into a lot of trouble,” Beth said. “He kept getting arrested.”
“You can make light,” Les sniffed. “But he was just trying to show that there’s nothing shameful about the human body.”
“There’s nothing particularly beautiful about it either,” Beth said, remembering Les’s antics as he got dressed that morning.
The sight of his naked wobbly bits cavorting round the bedroom as he struggled to get into his boxers put her right off her Weetabix.
“It’s not about beauty,” Les said, coming over all serious. “It’s about freedom to express oneself in the manner nature inspected.”
“You what?” Beth sniggered. “You mean intended. Where did you get that from?”
“It was on telly just now,” he said, looking miffed. “Holidays for freedom seekers.”
“Holidays for peeping toms more like,” Beth muttered.
“Ah, you see, that’s just the sort of attitude those of us who are at ease with our bodies have to put up with. It’s not about titillation. It’s about being able to do your own thing without fear of ridicule or arrest.”
“You’ll be telling me next you intend to streak up the High Street on Saturday afternoon.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said. “But there are health benefits to going naked.”
“Oh? Sunburn in summer and frostbite in winter. Lovely.”
He switched the telly back on signalling the end of the conversation. Beth glared at him. He’d had a right bee in his bonnet lately about naturism.
In fact, ever since they’d been to
Almost every beach they’d gone to had been covered in naked bodies.
“I feel overdressed,” Les had grumbled as an endless line of naked Germans strolled past at the water’s edge. “I bet I stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Take your shorts off then,” Beth said.
“I will if you will.”
“No way.”
“Humph. Is that a man or a woman? They seem to have a full set of both lots of bits.”
“Stop staring, Les.”
“I’m not staring,” he said, his eyes like gobstoppers.
Oh, yes, their holiday had been quite an eye opener in more ways than one.
A few days later Les arrived home with a bunch of flowers.
“What have you done?” Beth asked suspiciously.
“Nothing.”
“Hm.”
“But I have booked us up on a taster weekend.”
“Ooh, sounds good,” Beth said. “What are we tasting? Wine? Whisky? Chocolates?”
“Nuumumm,” Les mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nuumumm,” he repeated.
“What’s that then?”
“It’s just four days,” he said quickly. “I did it over the phone. A naturist short break. Four days of being as nature intended. Just think, love. The wind in your hair, the sun on your skin . . .”
It took two hours for Les to coax Beth out of the bedroom and when she emerged, she had a face like thunder.
“I’m not going,” she said, gritting her teeth. “You can’t make me go.”
“But it’s all paid for,” he said. “And everyone will be the same. It won’t matter what clothes you wear, because you won’t be wearing any. And there’ll be no heavy suitcases to lug around, no worrying about what to wear to dinner . . .”
She still wasn’t speaking to him when the tickets and brochure arrived a couple of weeks later.
Her plan was to open the envelope, tear up the tickets and pretend they hadn’t come.
Just out of curiosity, she opened up the brochure.
It spoke of keeping fit and getting back to nature.
As Beth turned the pages, she started to smile.
“Ooh,” she said. “That looks nice. That looks very nice.”
It wasn’t what she expected at all. No blobby pink bodies playing starkers tennis. But on page 5 there was a picture of an extremely attractive bloke clutching a pair of binoculars.
She hid the brochure away and took it out to look at occasionally to remind herself why she was looking forward to their taster weekend.
Still, there was no need to let on to Les that she was quite looking forward to getting back to nature. He could suffer a bit longer.
While he was suffering, she was getting plenty in the way of chocolates, flowers and cups of tea in bed as compensation and bribery.
At last it was time to pack. Les could hardly stop grinning as he packed his toothbrush and very little else.
“You won’t regret this,” he told Beth earnestly. “You’ll come out of this experience a fuller person. Why are you packing clothes?”
“I’m not as comfortable as you with going for the natural look,” she said. “I may stay covered up.”
“You’re not entering into the spirit of this at all are you?” he said, sounding disappointed. “No one will look at you because we’ll all be the same. Nudity is a great leveller.”
“So is a steam roller, that doesn’t mean I want to drive one.”
“
“They are,” she said. “Nice aren’t they?”
He was scandalised.
“B-but you can’t,” he spluttered. “People will think you’re one of those voyagers.”
“Voyeurs,” she corrected.
He was still in a huff when they arrived at the old ivy clad manor house, but he perked up when he saw their room.
“Very nice,” he said. “Oh, well, might as well get into the spirit.”
He whipped his clothes off and cast them aside.
“I won’t be needing those for a few days.”
He went and stood at the window, beating his chest and sucking in lungfuls of cold fresh air.
Down below, more people were arriving. They looked up and Les gave them a cheery wave.
“Hello there!” he called. “Friendly lot,” he went on. “Everyone’s smiling.”
“Sure they’re not laughing?” Beth muttered.
Soon it was time to go down for dinner.
“You can’t wear clothes,” Les groaned. “Everyone will look at you.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’ve no sense of adventure, Beth,” he said.
She looked him up and down.
“Les, I really think you should wear something.”
“Okay, I’ll wear something,” he said with a sigh. “You go on ahead. I’ll meet you down there.”
They were a friendly, welcoming lot, just as the brochure promised. Beth took her seat at the table and got chatting to a man with a beard.
Suddenly, there was a loud gasp. Heads swivelled.
Les had just made his grand entrance. Completely starkers except for a tie round his neck.
There was a ripple of embarrassed laughter, then someone guffawed.
A waiter passed Les a menu to cover his embarrassment and he beat a hasty retreat.
Beth found him much later cowering in their room.
“Apparently you’re not the first to make that mistake,” she giggled. “Tomorrow, we’re off to explore the ancient woodlands and take in some coastline. We’re hoping to see some rare birds.”
Les stared at her.
“You booked us on a naturalist holiday, Les, love,” she laughed. “Naturalist as in ecology, biology and bird watching. Not naturist as in letting it all hang out . . . ”
-THE END-
© Teresa Ashby
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