Take me dancing naked in the rain

There are a million and one ways in which being a stroke-survivor affects your daily life. In my case, they range from the apparently trivial (don’t eat Full English breakfasts) to the much more serious (having to walk with a stick, because my balance is so uncertain, or stroke fatigue which can floor me for days).

By far the most serious, of course, was the termination of my working life at the age of 49. Retraining was not an option because of the memory loss and cognitive problems, so I was retired and had to take the company pension I had built up from a previous employer, while turning to the benefits system to help keep Warrillow Towers over our heads.

How has this affected my naturism? Well, it’s often said that naturism is an activity for the relatively well-off. There are club fees to pay, caravan and camping costs to account for and no-one involved in the naturist business has ever denied to me that there is a premium put on the price of naturist holidays, which people are willing to pay for the chance to enjoy nude living.

But if you are on a fixed income, that can put holidays out of reach. Mrs NS and I haven’t had a holiday (naturist or otherwise) for at least five years and I don’t see one on the horizon.

Yet the good thing about naturism, of course, is that it doesn’t require anything special other than a willingness to take off your clothes and be comfortable around other people. It doesn’t even require good weather, although obviously it helps!

I was reminded of this fact a couple of days ago. I am helping a friend by proofreading a book she is writing. I can’t give away too much but it includes a couple of stories about the joys of dancing in the rain.

Not entirely coincidentally, the dancing takes place naked. As my author-friend says, there is something very magical and sensual about dancing naked in the rain. Reading her words took me back a few years to before my stroke.

One of the highlights of my year back then was attending Nudefest, British Naturism's week-long celebration of nudism. I attended four times and on three occasions, the weather did us proud – 80-degree temperatures, baking sun all week, or at least for most of it. But on one occasion, it rained for most of the seven days.

The less-hardy gave up and went home midweek, but Mrs NS and I stayed to the end. And although the weather was wet, it wasn’t that cold. So those of us who chose to remain on site were comfortable naked. And that’s why reading my friend’s words brought back memories – because we sat naked on the grass in the rain, we used the indoor swimming pool, we played naked boules in the rain.

And I recall going to the religious service which ended the week. It was raining that morning, yet being part of a group of people all celebrating their various faiths in the nude and in the rain was indeed magical and sensual. And as is often pointed out, if you are naked in the rain, there are no wet clothes to dry out, so none of us hurried back from the service to our tents or caravans – we all strolled slowly, towels over our shoulders, enjoying getting wet.

What’s my lesson, then? Yes, posh foreign holidays are nice, but when you are disabled, just being alive is good. Being alive and naked is better, of course – especially if you appreciate the magic and sensuality of being naked in the rain.