It was an unexpectedly moving conversation. We were standing there naked in the woods, halfway through a 14 mile walk, and the former schoolteacher I’d been chatting to for the past hour was recalling the happiest day of his life.
He had retired in the spring a couple of years ago, and the following summer when he was out with his usual naturist crowd somewhere in the Home Counties, one of them had suggested a group photo (group photos I came to learn, are quite a thing among nudists).
Up until that point, as a teacher, he’d always felt it wise to duck the group shots, just in case one of them ended up on social media and anxious parents started crying “pervert”.
He realised, though, that finally free from…
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The Critic (Digital) - 1 Issue, August/September 2024