Yarns Without Threads 

Now it was daylight, he had a clearer view of their surroundings. And very pleasant they were too. He could see lots of shady trees facing onto the hard gravel surface of Avenue A. Opposite were identical cabins, most with cars parked outside.

There was absolutely no sign of life. Nothing moved. Birds twittered. Sun shone. A perfectly peaceful scene. ...

... an ancient pushbike hove into view, pedals slowly turning, wheels and bike chain squeaking from lack of oil.

Its rider was a man, probably in his early sixties, with baguette protruding from under left arm. Nothing too remarkable in that, thought Nick, he's obviously just been to the site's supermarket. He was also wearing a beret. Again, fairly much par for the course for, presumably, a Frenchman in a French camp site. No, what Nick's early morning brain found slightly hard to process was the fact that the man appeared not to be wearing much. Let's re-examine that, thought Nick. He appears not to be wearing anything at all.

As the rider got closer his suspicion was confirmed. Yes, apart from the beret, he was stark naked. The bicyclist greeted him with a cheery 'Bonjour, m'sieur' and disappeared from sight, the squeak receding to nothing. Nick feebly raised his hand in greeting, fully thirty seconds after man and bicycle had gone. Nick tried to take in what he'd just seen. Was the man wearing something and he hadn't noticed? No, the evidence of his eyes told him that the man really had been nude.

Before his brain had time to assimilate this information, he caught the sound of a handle being turned. It came from the cabin beside theirs. ... As he looked, a middle-aged, very tanned man appeared. Instinctively, as this man was also nude, Nick looked away to give the man a chance to dart back into the cabin. Nick's reasoning was that he obviously thought nobody was about at this hour of the morning and had decided to see what the day had to offer.

When Nick looked back, the man had not only not gone back into the cabin, he was now leaning against the railing very close to him.

'Good morning, nice day isn't it?'

'Er, yes,' was all Nick could manage. Master of the art of conversation.

'Martin. Martin Pike,' said the man offering his hand.

Churlish not to take it, Nick proffered his own and they shook hands above the void between the two cabins. 'Nick Boughton'.

'Just arrived, I see?'

'Oh what? The pale skin. Yes bit of a give-away isn't it,' said Nick, thinking that he was acting terribly well in the circumstances, talking to the second naked person he'd seen - in what, two minutes - as if to the manner born.

...

'No I didn't mean the skin. I meant those,' said Pike indicating Nick's boxers. 'They won't like those.'

Perhaps he was still asleep and this was a dream. He seemed to be having a conversation with a nude man about underpants. What did Pike mean? Who is it that wouldn't like his choice of nether garments? And why wouldn't they?

'Sorry?'

'It is obligatory you know.'

'Sorry? What is? Look, er, Mr Pike . . .'

'Please call me Martin.'

'Er, Martin. Forgive me, but I'm not sure I understand what you're saying?'

'Nudity,' Pike explained patiently as if to a particularly backward, or even wilful, schoolchild. 'It's compulsory you know.'

'Compulsory?'

'Yes, that means that you're obliged to be nude. Not wear any clothes?'

Nick was still not sure he was hearing this and decided to have one more try.

'Are you saying that I'm somehow breaking the law by wearing this pair of underpants?'

'Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that. You're not breaking any, if not all, of the French Napoleonic, civil or even criminal laws. But you are most certainly flouting the rules of Le Paradis.'

The penny finally clunked into a slot in Nick's brain. 'You mean that this site . . . where we're staying ... is ... is a nudist colony?'

'Not a nudist colony. We don't use that antiquated term these days. But yes, Le Paradis is a naturist resort. You must have known that when you checked in?'

'No we didn't. We . . .' Nick's voice trailed off.

'Well, don't worry about it. Just enjoy the freedom. You'll soon get used to it. You'll love it.'

I certainly won't, thought Nick. He'd always felt ill at ease in communal dressing rooms. Like many men who never engaged in team sports he'd never got used to the idea or sensation of being around naked men.

...

'Nick?' came Ros's voice from the bedroom.

...

He sat down on the bed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. ...

'Hi, it's a lovely day out there', said Nick.

She smiled, as much at the unexpected kiss as his comment. 'What's the place like?'

'Seems very pleasant. But for one slight, well, not problem, but issue.'

'Which is?'

'How can I put this? Well, nobody appears to be wearing any clothes.'

Ros sat bolt upright in bed, the sheet falling to expose her other equally perfectly formed breast. 'You're not serious?'

'Absolutely. And I've just had a riveting conversation with our nude male next-door neighbour to confirm it.'

'Let me get this straight. What you're saying is that we are currently booked into a nudist colony?'

'Please, that's so antiquated. It's a naturist resort', said Nick, echoing the words of Martin Pike.

'OK a "naturist resort''. So there's little point in my getting dressed, is there?', Ros said provocatively leaning forward.

'Actually, no. You could go out exactly as you are and nobody would take the blindest bit of notice.'

'Right then. I will', said Ros, getting out of bed and running her hands through her hair.

Before Nick could do or say anything else, she pushed through the beaded curtains, strode straight to the rail on the verandah and looked out. ...

'You're right! How about that!'

'Er, shouldn't you put something on? You know, cover yourself up?'

Ros turned to face him, leaning her rear against the rail. 'And what would be the point of that? Seeing as everyone here is nude?'

'Well', said Nick, feeling slightly uncomfortable, 'it's only right, isn't it. I mean, you know, it's, well, it's ..."

'Yes?'

'Well, not natural,' Nick finally exclaimed.

'You always were unhappy about nudity, weren't you? Do you remember that beach in Greece a few years back? Miles from anywhere and yet you still kept your bathers on, "in case anyone came along."

... 'So what is there to do here?' he asked Pike.

'Oh, loads of great activities! The main leisure part of Le Paradis is over there,' said Pike pointing in the opposite direction from the entrance. 'You'll find a road that runs right down the middle of the resort. It's called the Champs-Elysses. I think it's a French attempt at a joke. Anyway, follow it southwards and you'll find a bar, restaurant, swimming pool and the lake.'

...

'It's a lot bigger than I thought', said Nick and suddenly regretted his choice of words. 'I mean, I, we'll have to investigate further.'

'Yes, but make sure you get dressed first,' said Martin pointing at Nick's clothes. 'Don't want to frighten the natives, eh?'

Nick gave him a weak smile.

'Oh, and don't forget your towel. Very important the towel,' added Martin.

'Towel?'

How was it that everything that happened in Le Paradis seemed so surreal? On top of everything else, here was Martin Pike talking about towels. It rang a distant bell in his subconscious. Wasn't a towel an indispensable item of baggage for inter-planetary travellers in 'Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy'? But that was fiction. What relevance could it possibly have to life in Le Paradis?

Seeing his confused look, Martin Pike decided to enlighten him. 'Sorry, forgot you're new to naturism. I've got a special section on towels in the Naked Guide.'

Again, Nick had a feeling of being way out of his depth. Prince of repartee he could only repeat 'Naked Guide?'

'Yes. I'm writing a book. It's called "Naturism. The Naked Guide." Of course it's still in draft form but progressing remarkably well. It's a first, you know. A total guide to the world of nude living. Bound to be a best seller. Well, we can but hope.'

The Naked Guide has this to say about the towel:

The humble towel, in all its forms - from hand through bath to beach and sheet - plays an essential role in the life of the naturist, forming as it does the only necessary textile [see under 'T for 'textile' in index] item in a naturist's wardrobe.

Its primary purpose is not as an item tobe worn but to be used as a barrier between the naturist's nether regions and surfaces upon which the naturist sits or lies - such as seats, sofas, chaise longues, loungers, deck chairs and so forth.

It's an accepted part of nudist etiquette to always carry a towel around to put on a surface before sitting on it. Not to mention other essential uses, such as covering oneself when venturing into non-naturist areas. As a last resort, it can also be used to dry oneself after taking a shower, bath or welcome dip in sea or pool.

The generic term 'towel' can also be stretched - if you will pardon the pun - to include any piece of material that's big enough to sit on so that the naturist's body doesn't come into direct contact with the surface being sat or lain upon.

So whilst naturists wear nothing and are unencumbered by clothing, ironically all still normally carry around a piece of cloth with them, draped over or round shoulders, under the arm, in a bag or carried in the hand.

...

Ros suddenly stood up. 'Well, I for one am not going to skulk in this hot, pokey cabin all day. You can do what you like, but I'm going to unpack and go for an explore. Find a nice spot, read my book and soak up some sun. And if that means wearing no clothes then so be it.'

Ros ... pulled her t-shirt over her head exposing her breasts beneath. 'I don't know what's got into you. You're being very difficult you know. This is our holiday. We are supposed to be having fun.'

'Having fun? We break down in the middle of France. End up in a nudist colony. Discover a dead body. And get put under house arrest. If this is fun, then I demand an instant redefinition of the word from the ruling body of the Oxford English Dictionary!'

Ignoring his rant, Ros continued undressing until she stood stark naked in front of Nick, not amused at what she saw as his churlishness.

'It's probably only going to be for a few days at the most so please stop complaining.'

'You're not actually going out like that are you?'

'Of course not. I'm going to put something on.'

'Thank God.'

'My factor 8. Here make yourself useful. Rub this into my back would you,' said Ros, handing Nick a bottle of sun lotion.

Nick obeyed and as he rubbed cream into her shoulders continued, 'I mean, you really are going out totally nude?'

'Of course. We're only talking bodies here. I see most parts of them each day in the surgery. There's nothing to worry about,' said Ros, although she didn't feel as certain about the whole venture as she sounded.

In fact, she had butterflies in the pit of her stomach at the thought of walking around amongst other people in the nude. She decided to keep such misgivings to herself.

Finishing applying sun lotion to the rest of her body, she turned to Nick. 'There, how do I look?'

'Great! If you were getting ready for bed. But a little under-dressed for promenading around a camp site in front of hundreds of strange men.'

Ros gathered up book, sunglasses, lotion and purse and dropped them into her large canvas shoulder bag. Adding her novel and some euros, she slung her folded beach towel round her neck, so it hung down slightly covering her breasts, and stepped into her flip-flops.

'Are you coming with me or are you staying here all day?'

...

'Well . . . just to keep you company. Make sure nothing happens to you.'

Nick reluctantly pulled his t-shirt over his head. Bare-chested, he undid and removed his shorts and pants and stood nude in front of Ros. If they'd been monitoring his pulse rate or heart beat, he was sure both would have gone off the scale by now.

'There that's not so bad is it? Let me put on some sun stuff for you,' said Ros, picking the lotion from her bag and applying it to Nick's back. ...

...

'What about my arse?'

'It looks very nice.'

'No I mean, it's uncovered! People walking behind me can see it!'

'Nick, I am now really losing my patience. Everyone here is nude. Nobody is going to be looking particularly at your bum or any other part of your anatomy. For God's sake! You will get used to it. I promise.'

With a final 'Right', Ros set out for the cabin door, looking more determined and confident than she actually felt.

Instead of bounding outside as playfully as she had earlier, she opened the door and peeped out. It was very quiet, and very hot.

Nick hesitated behind Ros's rather nice behind. Taking a deep breath he followed her into Avenue A.

It was a weird feeling. A bit like being in a dream. His heart continued to pound. Try as he might, he couldn't stop that feeling of panic. It was just like those phobias people experience. Like fear of spiders or of great heights.

He also made sure he held his towel in front of him. He hoped that this looked dead casual to anyone who happened to be looking. But he still felt distinctly uneasy about his nude backside.

They reached the "Champs" and enjoyed their first mass sighting of the inhabitants of Le Paradis. On each side of the road were caravans - many of which looked permanently tethered - tented caravan awnings, tents of various shapes and sizes, camper vans and larger recreational vehicles. Each had its own plot under shading trees.

In and around them, people were going about their everyday pursuits. Peeling potatoes for lunchtime frites. Watering plants. Cleaning the car. Drinking coffee. Chatting. Arguing. Or just sitting. And every single person naked. ...

It was strange, thought Nick, how nudity was affecting Ros. Normally cautious, down-to-earth and slightly introverted, Ros seemed to have become more sociable the less she wore. Almost as if she'd shed her protective shell and inhibitions along with her clothes. In fact, the direct opposite of Nick, who had seemed to have acquired a whole cabin trunk-load of inhibitions.

Reaching the door of the cabin, Ros looked in her beach bag for the key, which of course had slipped right to the bottom. Finding it, she opened the door into the stuffy interior.

With some relief Nick threw his protective towel onto the bed. 'This is all turning into a total bloody nightmare. I don't think I really can go out again undressed like this. ...'

'It's not funny Ros. I don't know how you can just happily swan around without a stitch on, seemingly without a care in the world. I'd never have dreamed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.'

It was something Ros had been asking herself. She was feeling fairly relaxed about the nudity. Yes, it felt a little strange, open air whistling around parts that hadn't previously had open air whistle round them. In a way it felt naughty and daring. She quite liked the total freedom and the glances she received from the male populace.

It was still only half past ten. They'd been in Le Paradis for less than 24 hours. Yet it seemed a lifetime ago that they'd turned the corner of the road and spied that red neon sign. They'd entered a world that Nick had never thought even existed. A world where nudity was the norm and clothing the exception. He just couldn't figure out why people did it. And perhaps never would.

Nick took a sip of his coffee. 'So what do you think of the holiday so far?'

Resisting the urge to be flippant, Ros considered her answer. 'I've had less stressful times in A & E. It's strange isn't it. I don't think I could get used to being a nudist. It's supposed to be free and liberating, yet there are many more rules, regulations and conventions than on an ordinary holiday. What not to wear. What to wear and when. Where to look when talking to people. Carrying something around to sit on all the time. They seem to have replaced the restrictions of clothing with restrictions of not wearing clothing.'

... 'Can I get to the dressing table. I need to do my make-up.'.

'What? Oh sure,' said Nick, moving out of the way and to his side of the bed. He peered into his travelling wardrobe of clothes as if inspecting an alien space craft.

Ros watched him in the mirror as he took out one t-shirt, held it up, put it back and took out another. 'I can't wait to put on clothes again,' she said. 'Isn't it a real relief to be able to get dressed tonight?'

'Strangely enough, I can't say it is really.'

Ros carried on applying foundation. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, I'm getting used to it. You know, nudity. It doesn't seem such a bad idea after all.'

Ros stopped what she was doing and turned towards him, incredulous look on face. 'What?!! Is this the same person who was worried about exposing his genitals to public gaze less than 48 hours ago? The man afraid of people seeing his arse? The man who tried to turn a towel into a dressing gown? What's brought this on?'

Nick looked at her with a slightly abashed expression. 'I don't know. It's not anything to do with all that "freedom" and "classlessness" bollocks. It just seems to make sense in this climate. Dress for cold. Undress for heat. After all, it's what all our primeval ancestors used to do in the dim and distant past.'

My God! He's beginning to sound like Martin Pike, thought Ros. It must be what living in close proximity to him does to you.

She turned back to her face in the mirror. 'Well I for one will be absolutely delighted to get some clothes on. ...'