I wish I really could say that I grew up in a naturist family, spending my summer holidays running round naked

in the sun. But I cant. I grew up in the East Midlands in the united kingdom in the 1970s (I was born in 1968), with a perfectly ordinary youth. I only ever saw my parents nude once or twice, and I dont think theyve seen me naked since I was about 10.
So, I grew up with all the regular British reservations about showing my body in public. I think that my first exposure to naturism came on vacation in the south of France with my parents when I was (I believe) about 17 – my last vacation with them before I became a pupil and then left house. We stayed near Port Grimaud, and one day I made the decision to see what was on the different side of a large stony breakwater. Imagine my surprise once I saw a beach full of nude folks! Id like to say that I went and stripped off and joined them, but I didnt. Remember, this was a time when I didnt even want my parents to see me without a shirt on!
Anyway, when I was a pupil (living at home), I picked up a copy of Health and Efficiency from a store that had it as one of its own top shelf magazines (a phrase that will without doubt be familiar to British readers, but might be less so to those from overseas. Just remember that Playboy is a top shelf magazine!). It was interesting to discover a magazine full of nude photographs of what I came to think of as ordinary people doing regular things not models who seem to be auditioning for a gynaecological textbook. At the moment, I also begun to spend time around the house nude when everyone else was out, but this was more from the illegal delight perspective. Nevertheless, my opinion started to change, and I found that I really loved being nude, and envied people who could go on naturist holidays. I did handle a few days sunbathing naked in the back garden in a very rare time when my parents were on vacation and my brother was still away at college in a different town.
And that was it for several years. In 1992 or 1993, my girlfriend and I went to stay with a friend who lived in Poole, on the south coast. On the Saturday we went to their local beach for a walk, and my friend warned us that there clearly was a nudist section. It absolutely was Studland Bay, somewhere I had learned of in H&E (which I had long stopped purchasing, mainly because I had moved in with my girlfriend). So t here I was, walking along Studland, surrounded by nudists, but I didnt dare do anything. I mean, I used to work with my (female) friend (and did again a couple of years later) and couldnt imagine telling her hey, Id love to strip off here. For all I know, her and her husband might have been regulars, but that wasnt going to happen!
My girlfriend and I went back to Studland on our last day as the weather was fine, and I somehow plucked up the courage to suggest to her that we went to the nudist beach because I saw stripping off. She was pretty amazed, but agreed on the understanding that she didnt have to. I really loved it, much to her bemusement. I even swam nude in the ocean, which was just superb (if a little cool).
Over the next couple of years, my girlfriend indulged me and we seen Studland once or even twice annually and I likewise stripped off once or twice on a beach in France, but that was pretty much it. For the last 3-4 years however, we have been on holiday in French cottages, and weve always managed to be remote enough for me (and sometimes my girlfriend) to strip off by the pool. During the past couple of years, I’ve been doing a streak of photography classes (Im a very keen hobbyist), and the last one, in 2003, was social documentary. I fought for quite a long time to think of a subject, and from somewhere deep down I came up with the concept of doing something on naturism.
So, I somewhat nervously went to see them so that they could meet me and I could see what the photographic chances were.
There were some delays in receiving permission from the sports center they use, and in the end they said no. With this time, I had been 2 or 3 times and was getting to love it. Thus, even though my job was killed off before I ‘d shot any graphics, the team asked me if I wanted to join, and I did. I now go along once a month or so, and adore it.
More lately, I’ve been starting to consider making contact with one of the clubs not too far from Bristol one that’s its own land so I could maybe have someplace outside to see regularly.