‘SKINNY-DIPPING IS IN THE SAME CATEGORY AS SMOKING BEHIND THE BIKE SHEDS – THRILLINGLY INSUBORDINATE’
activity. I know some brave souls throw themselves into icy pools in January, but not me. In my world it is forever linked with languid, lazy hot days. When the world shifts to a different mode and the usual rules don’t apply. Shirt buttons are undone, flesh is on display, work is sidelined.
I visited Chatsworth House in the
Peak District in England a few years ago on such a day. A group of lads were jumping in the river in various states of undress. Swinging on ropes. Jumping from the bank. Wrestling, jostling and teasing. Their bodies lean and muscular, unmarked by life.
Some were shirtless, the brave ones in the buff. Naked, these boys could have been from any time in history. Because the joy of diving naked into cold water on a hot day is timeless.
I hope I’m still doing it when I’m a granny. Just watch out for that flying swimsuit...