I visited a British nudist beach for the first time and it was hilarious – now I’m hooked on being naked on holiday

DURING our recent heatwave, when UK temperatures hit a sizzling 34 degrees, I must have caught a touch of heatstroke, as I had this mad idea… I wanted to get naked. Publicly. 

In the throes of post-divorce life, I’m having, what I like to call, a midlife renaissance –not crisis!

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This is presenting itself in the form of tattoos, endless trips abroad, and, ahem, a foray into naturism. 

Nude sunbathing is not just about thrill-seeking, it’s also about reclaiming my body.

Now in its 53rd year, my beautiful sack of sausage skin has housed three children – two at the same time, in fact – it has run marathons, climbed mountains, and suffered more than its fair share of debilitating hangovers, but so far (touch wood) it has never let me down. 

Nakedness is just one of the many things I’m enjoying about getting older.

I grew up in seventies suburbia, when our bits and bobs were largely kept under wraps. I was twenty before I exposed my body publicly.

It was a girls’ holiday in Majorca ’92 and still tipsy from the night before, my friends and I decided to go topless and I can remember how liberating and natural it felt.

While thirty years later my pups aren’t as pert as they used to be, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve their time in the sun. 

Brigitte Bardot started the trend for topless sunbathing in 1958 on Pampelonne Beach in St Tropez.

Presumably ending up golden bronzed with no tan lines – seems like a great idea to me.

A few years ago, I visited the same beach in France and topless bathing was still very much the norm, particularly amongst Gallic women my age.

I was tempted to let the girls hang loose too, but my teenage son threatened to call the authorities. 

Since getting divorced, I have travelled around the world on my own and with friends.

My kids are older now and prefer going to the beach with their mates.

Luckily, I didn’t have to travel as far to find my local nudist beach.

As a Brighton girl, the naturist beach, which opened in August 1979 and was the first public nudist beach in the UK, was the butt (‘scuse the pun) of many jokes growing up.

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Naturism in Britain became popular in the seventies but British people still a bit stiff upper lip about flashing your bits in public.

However, according to British Naturism, there are now 6.7 million naturists in the UK today. 

I keep this figure in mind when I take myself down to our nudey beach on a sunny afternoon.

Walking towards the clothing-free zone, I start to feel a little nervous. What if I know someone? Or someone recognises me? 

Sandwiched between two ‘normal’ beaches, where children squeal and splash in the shallows, the clothing-free area is shielded by a bank of pebbles and has signposts warning bathers they’re entering Brighton Naturist Beach.

Peeking over the top of bank, I could see forty maybe fifty men and women of all ages sunbathing naked, bar the odd couple of ladies who were just topless. 

I take a furtive look around and casually wander over to a quiet spot and fling down my towel.

I unclip the clasp of my bikini top, fling my arms in the manner of Barbara Windsor in Carry On Camping, and it drops on to the pebbles.

I look around again, take a deep breath and then shimmy out of the bottoms. 

Of course, nobody bats an eyelid at this now naked, middle-aged, woman grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Naturist etiquette means no staring, no pointing and certainly no photography.

At first, I lie on my front and look around at everyone minding their own business, and enjoy the sun beating down on my bare bottom.

It felt like I had joined a secret club. With no dress code. 

Being naked around other people is a strange but exciting sensation.

I’m very aware of the cool pebbles imprinting their shapes on my bum cheeks the fresh salty air blowing around my lady parts –a blessing in this heat.

Far from feeling vulnerable, I feel safe, relaxed and I’m only sorry I haven’t tried it out sooner.

Relaxing further, I start reading my book and soon forget that I’m lying stark naked on my local beach.

Now feeling cocky – again, do excuse the pun – I saunter down to the waters edge for a little dip in the briny sea.

This is the moment when I became a fully committed nudist.

Swimming in sea as nature intended is easily the most fun you can have with your clothes off. Well, almost…

I have never felt more free.

In fact, even when the summer is over and I can’t tan with my top off, I am planning to come back for more naked dips. Just me and the sea, there is nothing like it.

Turns out, my new appreciation for social nudity has arrived just in time.

This summer, thousands of people across the the UK will be dropping trow for the Great British Skinny Dip, a campaign by British Naturism to raise money for the British Heart Foundation.

There are 500 or so events happening all summer and all over the country, so beware, a certain naked divorcee could be coming to a city or beach near you soon.