It’s funny where the inspiration for your next blog comes from and when you’re least expecting it. An afternoon with a friend catching up on some gossip has provided me with my next topic and those of you who are eating or of a nervous disposition may want to stop here. . . .
So the brave few have stayed, well I warned you. And you may also be thankful for the colder weather too, as you take your blustery walk along a beach this weekend. . .
I don’t know how or why but we ended up on the subject of a nudist beach or the fact that on an innocent walk, we have both stumbled across one or two surprises; no warning, no signs just some unformentionables dangling in the full light of day, catching some rays and no doubt some stares of ‘is that man really naked?’
Now I’m not a prude; far from it. But I don’t want to see ‘the last turkey in the shop’ on display on a public beach where it shouldn’t be; that’s what nudist beaches are for and there are plenty of them apparently.
I didn’t know where to look but was uncomfortably drawn to this small, naked, bronzed all over man who was more than comfortable in his own skin, which seemed three sizes too big for him, as he wanted to share everything with the world for reasons I do not understand. I protested loudly to Hubby that this man had ruined my pleasant Sunday afternoon walk along the beach and more importantly was putting me off my meat and two veg roast dinner when I got home and probably for the rest of my life!
My Hubby didn’t know what all the fuss was about, making comments like ‘if he was younger, fitter and had a 6 pack, you’d be drooling’. Well there’s no denying that really. I’m partial to the specimens of Messrs Pitt and Beckham. And love the pics of Becks advertising pants. But he’s wearing them and to be honest I’m rather pleased about that as it does leave some imagination for you to daydream about and think Posh is the luckiest woman to walk the earth- you’d think she’d be grinning from ear to ear with what’s hidden in those pants - and when you’re reading your Heat magazine with your Danish, you don’t even want Becks’ tackle winking at you unless you have a friend whose special skill is the Heimlich Manoeuvre.
My friend had the same issue when out walking along a different beach and came across a man with everything on show. It was enough to put her off her conversation and that’s saying something and despite wanting to reach the end of their walk, they promptly turned back round again. All a fluster, agitated and confused as to why there was a naked man on the beach with no warning, no signs and no need for it, my friend has yet to return to that stretch of beach. But it was interesting that we felt the same way as I was being made to feel guilty by Hubby at my ‘blinkered ageist, sexist attitude’ as he kept going on that if it was a woman I wouldn’t be bothered. Well as my friend and I discussed this issue, we both agreed that yes, we would be rather bothered if it was a woman on a public stretch of beach because we all know that after a certain time in your life- having sprogs- your boobs are swinging happily down by your knees without the magic scaffolding of the bra. And no one wants to see that unless of course you’re in Spain, sunning yourself where you’re too busy worrying about white bits, red bits, missed waxed bits and not being mistaken as an extra in Free Willy (no pun intended) to even bother with all the nakedness around you.
So if you do feel like a bit of Free Willy, the movie is ok and comes in a sequel and watching that will prevent me from choking on my 99 the next time I go for a walk along the beach.