nothing but a smile upon her face ...

I don't want you to think I'm a naturist or anything, but I spend quite a bit of time naked.

No wait!  Come back!  Let me explain...

I was having a conversation with Hen on the way to the pub last night about lodgers, and we were laughing about how it would force a pretty significant change in the way you went about your daily business inside your own home: you'd have to wear clothes a whole lot more often.  I don't know about you, but as I sleep in the buff, I probably spend more hours naked in this house than I do with any clothes on.

We had a friend staying with us for a couple of nights this week, and C's mother is staying with us this weekend, and that kind of thing tends to force changes to my normal routine.  I don't even own any pajamas, so even a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night -- well, I'm not as young as I used to be -- necessitates a bit of a think.  The guest bedroom is upstairs and has its own en-suite facilities, so the chances of being caught making a dash to the bathroom in the altogether seem slim... but on the other hand, the consequences of being caught, frozen in the hallway as the lights came on seem fairly awful too.  In the main, I'll make a run for it, but sometimes I'll have to rummage around behind the bedroom door for my dressing-gown or a pair of shorts when the thought of being caught seems like too much of a chance to take.

I'll often run the risk of the curtains being open at the weekend and stroll around the bedroom in broad daylight after a run and before a shower entirely as nature intended.  To hell with the chances that someone might walk past and get a terrible shock.  C. does the same too, although she takes the risk and runs the gauntlet downstairs a lot more often than I do: we have a narrow, contintental-like strip of opaque sticker strategically placed across the middle of the kitchen window looking out on the street, but even so, she can be a little cavalier first thing in the morning as she strolls about looking for something to wear.  I'm convinced it's one reason why the guy over the road likes to hang around on the street having a smoke instead of using his back garden like everyone else.  Ah, what the hell?  Who cares?

I'll get up in the morning, and three times a week I'll do some exercises before my shower.  It's nothing too extensive, just a few dips, press-ups, sit-ups and some dumbbell work to keep my upper body from wasting, and obviously I don't usually bother to put anything on.  Why would I?  I'm only going to the shower afterwards.  But when you've got a visitor, as we've had this week?  At least we've now got a bedroom door that shuts properly - our last one would drift open at unfortunate moments mid press-up. No one needs to see that first thing in the morning, so on Wednesday this week, I wore shorts.  I actually didn't see my friend until he came down when I was long showered and dressed and was having my breakfast, but you can't be too careful, eh?  Not everyone I know is so considerate British about the whole thing: when we stay with our friends in Vienna, there is always a danger that we might bump into a naked Austrian man walking around in the nude in the night.  Well, it is his flat, so why not?  I think C. was a little surprised when she bumped into him the first time, but it wasn't a big deal for him (he was so relaxed that he initiated a conversation) and she wasn't really shocked, so what's the harm?

Mind you, this all seems a short step away from entering League of Gentlemen territory and a lodger trapped in "nude day" hell with the Dentons.... "The first Monday of every month, where we cast aside the paraphernalia of the early Twentieth Century and return to a simpler way of life, closer to nature's intentions"



Well...we can't make any exceptions, Benjamin.