Most writing about naturism involves going somewhere. A beach, or a club with a gate and a membership card. That needs a weekend and usually a car. I have neither.
So mine happens in a garden in Chelmsford on weekday mornings. Clothes off, coffee, get on with work. There is nothing to it.
I am a solo parent, so my evenings and weekends belong to my son. That leaves me weekdays, roughly nine to three.
I am 52 and autistic and blunt. You will never have to work out what I meant. I read and I write. I photograph my own body because I am interested in the shapes it makes, ribs and the angle of a knee. It is composition, and some days it works.
What I am after is company in daylight. I would start with a coffee somewhere public, clothed, in town, and we can work out from there whether we like each other. Friendship is a decent outcome. So is more. You decide which.
If you are a woman near Chelmsford with a free weekday, say hello.