Buttoned-up Britons are finally embracing the nudist beach
Last week naturists got their knickers in a twist – the ones wearing any, that is.
A parish council erected a signpost that outlawed nudity at Cotton Beach near Lowestoft. 'Lewd behaviour will not be tolerated,' warned the parish prudes. It turns out the council ban was a storm in a D-cup.
According to the Crown Prosecution Service, bathing in your birthday suit is a harmless and completely legal pursuit.
Enjoying nature au naturel is growing in popularity too. British Naturism spokesman Andrew Welch puts 'the huge amount of acceptance today' down to a desire to celebrate real bodies in a digitally perfect world.
'Our assessment is that if more people got to know what a real human being looked like, there'd be fewer body confidence issues, which can even lead to suicide.'
According to an Ipsos poll, around 39 per cent of Brits have enjoyed some form of public nudity.
It helps that British Naturism has promoted the pastime without the strident willy-waving of some charities. The organisation invites all-comers to its naked rambles, bare-all boat trips and Nudefest, a week-long festival with music.
In fact, this news story is a century old. In 1929 Charles Macaskie opened a nude resort in virgin Hertfordshire woodland as a leafy antidote to industrial London. Macaskie was inspired by German ideas of Freikörperkultur (which translates as 'free body culture'), a movement dedicated to outdoor wellness. He called his nudist utopia Spielplatz, which means 'Playground'.
Spielplatz residents came for freedom, not politics. In the 1950s the resort attracted druids, Wiccans and vegetarians – free-thinkers in a buttoned-up post-war world. Today the club offers glamping breaks and even lunchtime swims for time-pressed nudists. 'Before the Victorians,' continues Welch, 'the concept of having a special set of clothing just to go and get it wet would have been as laughable as some people find being naked now.'
Naturism's journey to acceptance has navigated choppy water. During the discontent of 1979, for example, Brighton councillor Eileen Jakes tabled a motion to reserve 200 yards of shingle for naked bathers in order to boost tourism. To prove the concept worked, Jakes passed around topless photos of herself taken in Ibiza.
Fellow Brighton councillor John Blackman was having none of it. 'A flagrant exhibition of mammary glands,' Blackman thundered. 'What distresses me is that people naively believe what is good for the Continent is good for Britain.'
In my experience as a naturist, the Continent has always had a rosy indifference to nudity. Textile-free beaches in the Balearics are Edens for all ages. In Germany, most thermal spas are nude.
At bare-all campsites like Koversada in Croatia, happy campers perform aquarobics and windsurfing in the buff, as if they've simply forgotten to get dressed that morning. Accoutrements associated with naked bathing in Britain – knotted hankies, dirty postcards, Sid James – are anathema to our continental cousins.
A handful of naturist destinations, like Cap d'Agde in the South of France, are swinger-orientated. You don't have to erect a tentpole to understand what goes on at the campsite. If you get caught in someone's gaze, while they suggestively fist-pump a Calippo, it can only mean one thing.
By comparison British naturist beaches like St Osyth in Essex, with its tickle-your-cheeks sand, have an Adam and Eve innocence. Unless your OnlyFans preference is for middle-aged couples holding hands behind a windbreak, the scene is decidedly unsexy. Compare that to the widespread availability of pornography, which promotes body perfection and – in some cases – sexual violence. A windswept nude beach seems like a beacon of tolerance by contrast.
Perhaps that's why the liberty of strolling starkers along the sand is appealing to a new generation. Like nudism pioneer Macaskie a century ago, swapping the confines of capitalism for the freedom of nature has evergreen appeal.
'There's something incredibly liberating about stripping away not just clothes,' agrees Estelle Keeber, a social media expert, 'but all the pressures and expectations that come with them.' Keeber is fairly new to naturism but has become a keen advocate. 'It's amazing how much body confidence and self-acceptance you gain when you start seeing yourself (and others) as just people, without all the filters.' When clothes are discarded, egos follow.
Since starting her new Instagram account @nakedadventurewithme, Keeber found it 'eye-opening to connect with so many like-minded people'. She is excited about the Great British Skinny Dip, a series of wild swims organised by British Naturism and the British Heart Foundation. Keeber has found a sense of tribal belonging. Albeit within a tribe that seldom turns on their washing machine.
For Brits, naturism quite simply means a return to nature – an opportunity to bathe, birdwatch or camp in the nude. In these straightened times, participants don't even need to buy a new bikini. Just a bottle of SPF 50.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Daily Mirror
3 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
'Most hated city in Europe' where Brits love to go on holiday
Benidorm is one of Europe's most popular holiday destinations, welcoming some 800,000 British tourists a year - but that doesn't mean it's not also one of the most controversial Benidorm has been branded 'The worst place on Earth' by some, despite the resort town attracting roughly 800,000 British holidaymakers annually. Indeed, for certain travellers, its unenviable title stems precisely because of the influx of Brits each year. This Spanish seaside city, famous for its "strip" crammed with bars and nightclubs, revels in a reputation of limitless revelry where drunken antics and indecent exposure are as typical of the vacation experience as sunshine and sandy shores. YouTuber Ben Morris set off to Benidorm investigating whether its infamous notoriety is merited, pointing out that many attribute the resort's issues primarily to one thing: "Brits abroad." Ben observes that English is far more common than Spanish even in the scenic Old Town, stating: "Lots of people refer to Benidorm as 'Mini Britain,' with the British greatly surpassing the local population." He was taken aback by the sheer number of people thronging the streets, saying: "I knew that this was a popular holiday destination but I was really thrown off by how busy it actually was." However genteel Benidorm seems by day, the night transforms it completely, reports the Express. As darkness falls, encounters with illicit drug peddlers and, curiously, condom vendors become routine, targeting inebriated tourists to splurge their holiday funds. "I just couldn't get over how different the energy was at night-time," Ben said. "It was like feeding time at the zoo with Brits drinking and partying all down the streets." The bustling Calle Gerona is tailored for a certain type of holidaymaker. "It's just crazy walking down the strip; it's pub after pub after sports bar after pub," Ben remarked. One infamous destination in Benidorm, Sticky Vicky's, notorious for its peculiar adult performance involving unexpected objects and a woman's nether regions, remains open even after its founder passed away in 2023. Taking the limelight is María Gadea Aragüés, Vicky's own daughter, who began mastering the unconventional family talent at the tender age of 13. Ben could only stomach roughly 10 minutes of the show before he had to make a swift exit. Yet, for those seeking a break from the brash strip's neon embrace, a short ride away lies the tranquil Altea. "It's a completely different vibe to Benidorm," Ben observes, suggesting it as a serene escape when the risqué antics of Sticky Vicky's become overwhelming.
Daily Mirror
6 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
'I stayed in a UK Center Parcs dupe and the location was simply unreal'
Louise, a mum-of-two, spent three nights at the retreat with her family and was very impressed with the facilities - as well as the price tag Center Parcs is a renowned UK staycation staple for many Brits, with vast parks in some of the most beautiful, rural settings. With sites in Suffolk, Bedfordshire, Wiltshire and Newark to name a few, getting to one of these locations couldn't be easier for many holidaymakers who don't want the fuss of flying. But, with many activities costing extra once there, the parks are often touted as expensive, and can rack up quite the bill. But one mum has revealed a budget-friendly option. Louise, a mum of two children aged nine and six, has come up with a cost-effective alternative that she claims offers a comparable experience without breaking the bank. "If you're looking for a cheap Center Parcs alternative, then this could be right up your street," she said on her Bored with Kids TikTok video. "We spent three nights here for just under 500 quid, or £40 per person per night." READ MORE: 'I'm a former check-in agent and the worst time to travel is not during summer' She's talking about Sherwood Castle Retreat in Newark, Nottinghamshire, a holiday site around 14-miles from its Center Parcs competitor. In snippets from her video, Louise remarked: "It is heavily influenced by its location near Sherwood Forest and by the film Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. There are loads of original props from the movie here, including the actual reception.", reports Nottinghamshire Live. The mum took to sharing a video of their delightful woodland lodge, replete with kitchen and dining area, a snug living room complete with TV and children's bunk beds, not forgetting the alluring log burner. She explained: "The woodland lodges have hot tubs, and are pretty similar to the Centre Parcs ones with the layout," further revealing, "We even had a log burner here, which was lovely at night." She expressed additional perks: "Plus you have tennis, bowling, and swimming available before 5 pm. You can actually book out the whole pool for yourselves if you wanted. They even have a little animal farm here too. Although you probably don't wanna be staying too close to it as they have two massive cockerels and these woke us up before 5am everyday." However, the lack of Wi-Fi and underwhelming play park and mini golf offerings were downsides she didn't shy away from noting. Wrapping up her review, Louise added: "However, it is less than half the price of the cheapest Centre Parcs lodge, it's in a beautiful location, and there are loads of lovely places to visit nearby,". Louise's video has since stirred up chatter online, with viewers chiming in with their thoughts, including one who recalled, "We stayed there, it was amazing." Several followers expressed gratitude to Louise for highlighting such a gem, with comments pouring in like, "This place looks great and brilliant price." Nestled in a 40-acre woodland in the legendary Sherwood Forest, the Sherwood Castle Holiday Forest is a serene getaway situated near Rufford, Nottinghamshire, just two miles south of Ollerton and a mere stone's throw, 20 miles north, from Nottingham. Offering an enchanting escape, the retreat boasts seven different styles of cosy detached pine lodges that can accommodate anywhere from 2 to 8 people, with some boasting their own private jacuzzis. Set amongst the rustling trees of this storied forest, guests are greeted every morning by the tranquil sounds of nature. The lodges come complete with modern comforts like en-suites stocked with complimentary toiletries, fitted kitchens for self-catering stays, toasty fireplaces, and televisions. Several units also offer a mix of double and bunk bedrooms, catering perfectly to family holidays. Facilities and activities Visitors looking to immerse themselves in the Robin Hood legend will find no shortage of activities, including: Movie buffs of "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" will delight at props from the movie, thoughtfully displayed throughout the park, enhancing the magical ambiance connected to the Lore of Robin Hood and providing a truly distinctive experience right in the cradle of English history. How to get there Sherwood Castle Holiday Forest is situated on Rufford Lane. To avoid a wet crossing, it's advised that visitors use the entrance from Wellow side of Rufford Lane, staying clear of the ford (stream). Journeying by Train from London: Hop on an LNER service departing from London King's Cross to Newark North Gate (a swift travel time of 1 hour 27 minutes), followed by a short taxi or bus jaunt that will whisk you to the tranquillity of Sherwood Forest, close to Ollerton. By Car from London: Head north on the M25 to A1(M), continue on the A1 past Peterborough, take the A614 exit towards Ollerton/Rufford, then follow Rufford Lane from the Wellow end - total journey approximately 2 hours and 20 minutes, covering 120-130 miles from London. Where to book The retreat can be booked on various sites, including their own website, where a stay begins at £92 per day at the time of writing. You can also secure your spot at the retreat on and TripAdvisor.
Spectator
7 hours ago
- Spectator
The fragility of the modern city reflects humanity's vulnerability
As I reached the final pages of the German writer Gregor Hens's essayistic travelogue The City and the World, news of the blackout across Spain and Portugal snatched my attention. Madrid and Lisbon were at a standstill. Images of gridlocked round-abouts and commuters rushing out of pitch-dark subway tunnels plunged me into a fatalistic mood. When will it happen here? Hens, I realised, had nailed an important point: the 'stunning complexity' of modern cities makes them fragile. The metropolis, he writes, has become so intricate, its limits so stretched, that in it, 'we are always living on the verge of catastrophe'. A seasoned globetrotter who spent his formative years 'guzzling jet fuel with abandon', Hens has lived in cities around the world, from Berlin (his current home) to Los Angeles. He has visited a host of other far-flung locations, from Shanghai and Shenzhen to Las Vegas. Each place a person visits, Hens suggests, becomes plotted in the 'galactic city' of their mind, a network 'whose intricately folded map actually offers the most surprising connections'. This is urban wandering on a rather different scale to that of Charles Baudelaire, whose 1863 essay 'The Artist, Man of the World' paved the way for a host of successive writers, most notably Walter Benjamin, to delight in roaming a single city on foot. Hens takes stock of our modern technologically dictated movements within and across cities, investigating how these places have come to sprawl far beyond the possible step-count of even the most determined walker. His understanding of the word 'city' encompasses entities that aren't cities in the obvious sense: libraries, viruses, cemeteries and the brain. These each have 'cityness', apparently, because they are networks. Hens is careful to acknowledge that this insight owes something to the work of writers like Rebecca Solnit ('a city is built to resemble a conscious mind… a network') and Michel Foucault ('our experience of the world is… that of a network'). His critique is bricolage-style: he makes incisive links between ideas, even if not quite delivering a decisive overriding argument of his own. This suits his subject. Cities are, he argues, constituted of 'the rubble of history', so are 'no longer spatially and temporally comprehensible' as a whole. Messiness is, for Hens, what makes cities interesting. He sees Los Angeles, in its orderly layout, as an outlier, envying 'anyone who manages to get lost' in it. The greatest cities, it seems, allow room for the inhabitant or visitor to forge their own geography, one which overlaps with but doesn't quite match what's on Google Maps. Our encounters, Hens suggests, are many-layered and varied. Some cities, like New York, are so ingrained in the public imagination that 'we first know [them] from our dreams'. Others, like Chongqing or Wuhan, are 'generic cities' that 'arouse no longings' for Hens. Mostly, though, we can know a city only 'in an excerpted form': outside of the webs we weave between bars and offices, homes and parks, much remains terra incognita. This is Hens's second book to be published in English and in it he has doubled down on a tested formula. In his 2015 memoir Nicotine (also elegantly translated by Jen Calleja), he surveyed his life as a smoker, using stories of memorable cigarettes like signposts in the mazy network of his experience. In The City and the World, the mechanism is essentially the same, but this time cities are the cigarettes. It works and it doesn't. On one level, the book satisfyingly blends memoir with literary criticism, travelogue and social commentary to create an experimental text reminiscent of other Fitzcarraldo Editions favourites such as Brian Dillon's Essayism. At the same time this fragmentary approach, which jumps back and forth between different cities and does away with chapters, doesn't feel quite as fresh as it did in Nicotine. That book's central subject was precise and sexy enough to carry the reader through its more meandering passages. The concept of the city isn't as tight – especially not once houses and children's playgrounds are included in Hens's definition. Yet his tentacular style makes sense as a response to the overstimulating, frenetic character of modern cities. How we think and live is mapped on to the metropolis. If the city is fragile, then we are too.
