Nature & naturism
I’m told that one morning my Mum was awoken by a loud knocking on the front door. She rushed down the stairs to find Uncle Roy standing there. “Is the boy in?” he asked, as he stepped back and pointed to a trail of clothes heading into the distance. They both followed the abandoned clothing to find me running round the green, naked as the day I was born. Apparently I would often get up at the crack of dawn and climb out of the bedroom window, and go for an early morning walk, although normally retaining my pyjamas. I was also in the habit – as are many young boys - of climbing trees. There was a particular tree that I climbed at the back of the flats that over looked Heston Park. It was a tough climb to get up to a comfortable branch, but once there I would sit in this tree, well out of reach of any adults – or any other kids for that matter – and watch the world go by. It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t combine tree climbing and naturism as those branches can poke you in the most uncomfortable of places.