Let it be noted however, that there was a very nice family sat in front of us. Two of them were naturists and two of them were not. I don’t have a problem with that at all because the non-naturists are there by invite and understand and respect the naturist ethos. It may be that in time they will embrace the freedom for themselves, or maybe not, but I don’t have an issue with that and interestingly, the Guardia Civil officers were sensitive and perceptive enough to understand this dynamic and didn’t ask those people to leave. They are my new heroes. Long may they prosper.

End of newsflash, and now onto my normal blog: 

I can still recall the day, when as a child, my extremely house proud mother took possession of a new three piece suite. No sooner had the delivery men left she would cover these brand new beautiful items of furniture with massive ugly blankets that were boil washed weekly until they needed replacing every few months (after years of therapy, I now understand that this is where my obsessive compulsive personality stems from – it’s learnt behaviour, I wasn’t born with it).

Fifteen years later, she removes said blankets to do her regular boil wash and decides that the years of invisible wear and tear from underneath the blankets means she must now buy a new three piece suite…which she does, having spent weeks deciding on a style and design only to cover this season’s fabric with ugly new throws and the vicious cycle continues to this day. I mean, really.

Anyway, the reason I am having this childhood flashback is because Steve and I own the equivalent of my mother’s suite…we have a place right on the beach (you’ll know it as Mediterráneo) – the sand literally comes to the foot of the building - may god bless the foundations that passed our buyers' survey. It has views to literally die for and we are very proud to rent it out for fellow naturists to enjoy. But the fly in the ointment for us, is that in the best months of the year everyone else is enjoying it except us! We own the damn thing but we may die before ever enjoying it in our favourite month of June. So Steve booked it out to a erm certain…Mr and Mr ChrisnSteve for a week. I wasn’t happy at first with the prospect of a lost week’s revenue but thinking back to my childhood demons, I realised this was yet another cycle I could break, and break it we did. We had a lovely week. We didn’t cook once (pre-cooked frozen slop in Tupperware – every microwaves’ dream), we stumbled down to the beach at 7:30am every day for a glorious swim, back up to the apartment, breakfast in the sun then back down to the beach for the rest of the day – bliss. The evenings were spent sipping cheap wine and munching bon bons on the terrace, listening to the waves and watching the ships. When the week was over we felt gutted. I mean, really gutted. We only live about…erm…a five minute stroll away but it’s just not the same is it? I totally understand how our guests feel now when their holiday comes to an end.

Anyway, mini-break done and dusted and we’re back to normal. This is the time of year when you see all the quirky sights around the playa. If you love (as I do) people watching, then just park yourself on the naturist beach, take some popcorn and enjoy the show.

There’s the phantom shorts man…sunbathing naked with his wife, gets up, puts his shorts on and goes for a swim in the sea, gets out the water, takes his shorts off, wrings them out then goes back to naked sunbathing – what the heck?

The champagne sunbathers: A middle aged couple who are far too posh to take a normal sunlounger to the beach..oh no. They have a massive double inflatable mattress towering 3 feet off the ground and while the afternoons away up there, sipping champagne from glass goblets, holding court with the lower classes who merely have towels to bathe on – now that’s my kind of beach living!

The young beautiful couple: I’m in this business for another 20 years at least so my heart relaxes when I see so many young people embracing naturism – One hates to talk business but they’ll still be young enough to rent one of our apartments before my private pension kicks in. So there I was admiring this sickeningly attractive young couple, gym honed physiques … boobs that cost a figure approaching what you’d pay for an antique Louis XIV three piece suite complete with ugly throws. They looked so glamorous floating along the shore line, and he, very gentlemanly holding her arm and helping her into the water. ‘I wonder what nationality they are?’ I thought to myself. ‘Russian? German? Ah, French, they must be French – they have that Joie de Vivre about them.’ Then over the waves I heard him telling her… “right, c'mon…shoulders in the water. I said put your shoulders in the water! Shoulders in!”

“He’s nearly as bossy as I am” said Steve.

“You could be related” I sarcastically replied.

Ipod girl: Strolling along the sand wearing nothing but a pair of headphones, stopping every few meters to change the tune on her ipad and causing havoc and tailbacks all the way back to the lifeguard tower.

The first-time-girls: Three young-ish girls…clearly on the naturist beach for the first time… running into the water and giggling away as they take it in turns to remove each others bikinis and throwing them to shore.

The ballroom dancers: And away from the beach, a wonderful, elderly Spanish couple had rented an apartment opposite ours and much to our eternal amusement would enjoy practising naked ballroom dancing every evening, gliding effortlessly along their terracotta-tiled terrace to some imaginary Hollywood film music. Very surreal and very wonderful but we're sure Brucie would spin in his grave at the sight...

I also made a couple of faux-pas. Firstly, Steve and I were walking along the sand to meet some friends for afternoon drinkies when we heard someone calling out to us. It was a lovely couple who stayed with us last year but couldn’t get in this time round and were staying somewhere else. “We’re treating ourselves to a holiday in our beach apartment this week” I proudly announced. As we finished chatting, said goodbye and walked away, Steve reminded me that they couldn’t get in with us this year because the week they wanted was the week we had booked for ourselves. Whoops. If you’re reading this my lovelies – well, me and my big mouth for starters, and secondly, you’re on the list for next year as you know!

My second faux pas happened when we bumped into some friends on the beach whom we didn’t expect to see. We stood chatting and at one point I looked down to the pair of towels left vacant by people who must’ve been away swimming or something, and seeing there was an old paperback thrown across one of the towels, I quipped “What are they reading? Fifty Shades of Grey'? Dirty beggers.” Of course, we all howled. Later that day by chance, we were talking to the very couple to whom the towels and book belonged – turns out they all know each other and had discussed my Fifty Shades of Grey comment. It was all taken in good humour, but again, me and my big mouth. 

A Zen Den pop-up has, well, popped-up on the re-opened roof terrace of the Vera Natura chiringuito (also known as ‘Sol y Luna’). It’s a really cool chill-out space offering different types of massage, mud therapy and yoga. The yoga classes are at 10am and everyone is welcome. The sounds (they have a gong) and aromas make it a truly sensory experience. Why not pop along and have a look for yourself if you are here? We wish them every success with their new venture.

Wanting to do something different but remain fairly local, with some friends we chartered a boat from nearby Garrucha and sailed down the stunning Cabo de Gata coastline. We put down anchor at the fascinating little cove Cala San Pedro and swum ashore. You can only reach it by foot (about an hour trek) or by sea. It is home to a hippy community of mainly naturists who have made their homes from local materials and live disconnected from modern society. They are very tolerant and welcoming to people who visit their sandy cove and respect the environment. Having wanted to respectfully see this gem ourselves for some years now, Steve and I feel very blessed to have spent just a very brief time there and will try to make a return visit in the future. Best of all I got to skipper the vessel, how happy I felt and how terrified everyone else felt!!! 

What a remarkable part of the world this is. Wish you were here? You can be. Meanwhile, I’ve got some blankets to boil wash and a book to read. It’s called Fifty… no, I’m joking of course.

Buen Verano to you all!