A fascinating feature in Monday’s EE aboot Aiberdeen’s disastrous effort to strip aff. Until reporter , I’d forgotten about the city cooncil’s passing penchant for a nudie beach. It got the go-ahead, although some cooncillors were outraged, like big, colourful Tory Dick Gallagher who warned it would attract dirty al’ mannies wie binoculars, declaring he’d fetch his gun and ‘pepper’ ony bare bods he spied.
Now that’s how council debates are supposed to be! But the avant-garde plan turned oot to be more of a Cairry-On Up The Don when it was discovered the secluded land, which officials had pin-pointed for naturists, was owned by – not them – but . More bonkers (or bunkers) than starkers. Man, the jokes gan roon for months, most of them involving holes in one.
A couple of years later my first hubby and I were doing our annual, whistle-stop camping tour of Europe. We’d chosen a site on the French Riviera near Frejus, on beautiful St Aygulf beach. Arriving hot and sweaty, about 4pm, we on oor costumes and headed doon to the packed beach.
My man, as always, led the way, he kept walking further along the sand, searching for a less crowded area to the other side. Sure enough, we found a super open space; on to the towels for a sunbathe. A mum can aye tell on the spot when somethin’s afit.
I became aware my kids, aged about seven, were gigglin’ and whisperin’ suspiciously as they played in the sand. I up and hid a keekie roon. Just a topless wifie, a puck.