The Accidental Naturist Read online

  The Accidental Naturist

  A Short Story

  By

  Richard Schillig

  Copyright © 2015 Richard Schillig All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Jones Books A Holiday

  Jones Leaves For France

  Jones Arrives In France

  Jones’s First Morning In France

  Jones Arrives At The Campsite

  Jones’s Breakdown

  Jones Becomes A Naturist

  Jones Meets Up With Sarah And Peter

  The Day Of The Hike

  Jones And Jenny

  Preface

  This is a story of Alan Jones who accidently becomes a naturist through a series of errors.

  Jones Books A Holiday

  Jones, Alan Jones, thirty one years of age, was an internal auditor who worked for the civil service. He was a jobs worth and needless to say did not have many friends. He lived on his own and led a very orderly life. He loved nature and saw himself as a naturalist. Every summer he spent his holidays on the edge of Dartmoor, and always stayed at Mrs Benton's B&B.

  One day his job took him to the newly formed department called special procurements, which had a staff of two, Peter and Sarah. They had heard of Jones's reputation and were not looking forward to his visit. However they decided to make a special effort to make him welcome, and as they had a couple of weeks notice of his arrival they pulled out all the stops to ensure that everything was in order down to the last paper clip.

  At nine thirty sharp, on the given day for the audit, Jones arrived at the department expecting to be met with the usual hostility, and was more than surprised when he was welcomed with open arms. Sara and Peter immediately told him that they were new to audits and asked Jones for advice. Jones was in his element and immediately liked Peter and Sara. Over a cup of tea and biscuits, they learnt that Jones loved nature and was a naturist, so he really couldn’t be that bad! They told Jones that they were naturists themselves and had booked themselves a holiday in the south of France on a naturist site in the middle of the countryside where they could walk for miles and miles, not see a soul, and be at one with nature. Jones told them that he went to Dartmoor each year, but had to admit that the weather tended to spoil things for him. They suggested that he should try and broaden his horizons and venture somewhere new where the weather was more or less guaranteed. Jones said that he did not speak French, Peter and Sara told him that most people spoke English and he wouldn't have a problem as long as he learnt to odd word and was prepared to make an effort. If he made an effort people would be more than helpful. They told him that they were going at the beginning of August and if he did decide that he wanted to go he would have to book right away as everything gets fully booked during August.

  When Jones got home that night he switched on the TV tuned in to the holiday programme and headed off to the kitchen to cook his evening meal. In the background he could hear the Pyrenees being mentioned and how more and more people were taking to naturism and enjoying the freedom of nature. The programme went on to talk about nature and unspoilt countryside. Jones was only half listening and by the time he got the chance to go and have a look at the TV the programme had ended. The programme was followed by the weather forecast which was one of rain. He decided there and then he would broaden his horizon and have a change. When he had finished his meal he got onto the computer looked up the campsite that Peter and Sarah had mentioned' and saw that it was lovely place. He saw there were lots of log cabins, a restaurant, swimming pool, and above all it was in a stunning location. He read that there were miles and miles of tracks in unspoilt countryside. He made up his mind and decided to book his first holiday abroad. Jones plucked up the courage and picked up the phone and dialled the French number.

  "Natura St Pierre, Bonsoir." said the voice on the other end of the line.

  Before the person on the other end of phone could say anything else Jones asked, "Do you speak English?"

  "Yes a little," was the reply.

  "I would like to book a place for two weeks from the first of August please."

  "Yes that is possible. What is your name?"

  "Jones, Alan Jones."

  "As it is August, the busiest month of the year we need to take a deposit of 10%."

  "That is fine. Can I pay by credit card?" Jones paid the deposit, which he thought was rather cheap, reconfirmed the dates and ended the call. He then tried to book a flight but found that everything on the day he wanted was fully booked. He finally booked a flight a day earlier and decided to overnight in Perpignan. The car hire was no problem as he booked this from the UK as well as the hotel. Jones had booked his summer vacation and was suddenly looking forward to something with excitement. For him this was a big adventure as he never been out of the UK before.

  Jones Leaves For France

  Two weeks before Jones’s departure for France he started to get excited. He bought himself a leather bound note book especially for the trip so that he could keep a daily journal. He also bought a new battery and a chip for his camera so that he had a spare. He thought carefully about what he should take with him and started to make lists.

  Three days before his departure Jones for the first time in his life felt sick with excitement, and kept checking and rechecking everything. For him this was a big adventure into the unknown. At the back of his mind he was glad that Peter and Sarah would be at the same place as him. His big hurdle was going to be the first couple of days as he would be venturing out into uncharted territory. The night before his departure he could not sleep at all. He was tired but dare not fall asleep in case he overslept. He was so worried that something would go wrong he even splashed out on a transfer by an airport transfer company. Three weeks before his departure he made a trip to the airport and had a good look around and found the check in desk that he would need, as did not want to leave anything to chance. He even made himself a little phrase book of all the questions he might need to ask when he arrived at the airport in Perpignan.

  On the day of his departure Jones was ready and waiting for the car that was to take to the airport some three hours before it was due to arrive. He arrived at the check in desk only to find that there was no one there. He immediately became worried and went to airport information who told him that the desk would open two hours before departure and that he was far too early. For Jones, the whole adventure was both exciting and terrifying as in the past he had always been in control but on this occasion he was in the hands of other people. When he finally got to the departure lounge he found himself a seat near a monitor which displayed the flight departure information and his eyes were glued to the screen. He was surprised at the way people were wandering around as if they did not have a care in the world. As soon as the boarding gate flashed up on the screen Jones was out of his seat and on his way, like a horse out of a starting gate at the races. Anyone who looked at him would have got the impression that he was about to miss his flight. He walked at a brisk pace down the long corridors following the signs. After walking for some five minutes Jones was starting to get worried and wondered if he was going in the right direction. Jones then saw an electric buggy coming his way and waved it down. “Am I going in the right direction for the gate I need as I have been walking for ages,” said Jones.

  The driver looked at Jones and could see that he was exhausted, no surprise as he had not had any sleep that night. “Come on hope in and I will give you a lift to the gate,” said the driver feeling sorry for Jones. Jones got on board and a couple of minutes later they arrived at the gate.

  “There is no one here,” said Jones getting worried that somehow he may have missed the flight.

/>   “That is because you are the first person here. Is this the first time you have flown?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “That explains why you were walking instead of using the moving walkway,” said the driver, who then went on to explain that the moving walkways were faster than walking. He also took the time to explain how the whole system worked. Jones just wished that he had all of this information before hand. “It will be about ten minutes or so before the first passengers start to arrive so just relax. You are in the right place, and there is no way you can miss your flight now,” said driver. Jones thanked the driver and went and sat down relieved.

  Sure enough around ten minutes or so later the first of the passengers started to arrive. Jones was now in the hands of other people and he just went with whatever was asked of him.

  Jones Arrives In France

  Jones looked out of the window as the plane taxied to the gate and as far as he could see he could have been back in the UK. When Jones got off the plane he followed the crowd and saw that they were all using the moving walkways. He followed them and wished he had known about the benefit of using the walkways before.

  A few minutes later he found himself in the baggage hall and was amazed to see his bag going around on the carousel and wonder as to how they could get his bag from the plane to the luggage hall so quickly. He saw that people were getting trolleys for their luggage so he did the same and put his bag on one and wheeled it out off the baggage hall into the airport arrivals area. He looked around and saw a sign pointing to the car rental desks. Jones pulled out the paperwork and handed it to the young lady. ‘Mr Jones, welcome to France,” said the young lady with a smile. ‘So Sarah and Peter were right, people do speak English in France,’ thought Jones much to his relief. Jones went through the necessary formalities and was then taken to the rental car park by minibus. The first thing that Jones noticed as he left the airport building was the waft of hot dry air that hit him. What a difference to the cold wet weather he had left behind him just a few hours ago.

  Jones car arrived and after going through everything he was left to it. He was really pleased that the GPS had been set to English for him. The person who handed him the keys to the vehicle even put in the coordinates of the hotel he was going to. He was also glad that he had decided to hire an automatic as he suddenly realised that the French drove on the wrong side of the road and the driver's position was on the other side of the car. Jones left the car park and head off to the hotel in Perpignan. After ten minutes or so he began to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road and as he didn’t have to worry about gears or as to where he was going he began to relax and actually enjoy the drive.

  Jones arrived at the hotel without a problem thanks to the GPS. He parked the car and walked into the hotel. He was again surprised that the receptionist spoke English. Once checked in he made his way to the room and was pleasantly surprised as to how luxurious the room was for the price he paid. This certainly beat the pants off Mrs Benton’s B&B. As he was only staying the one night he decided not to unpack. He freshened up and decided to explore the hotel after which he decided to venture out into the warm sunshine and found a restaurant which had a menu in English. He made a mental note of its location and decided that he would have his evening meal here a little later on as he wanted an early night as he was exhausted.

  Jones’s First Morning In France

  Jones woke up at 7 am, or so he thought. For the first few seconds he wondered as to where he was, and then realized he was in Perpignan and about to start his holiday. He did not have far to go, only around 30 kilometres to a place called Le Boulou. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a shower and shave, got dressed and then headed off to get some breakfast. The breakfast was fine but he was appalled that he couldn't get a decent cup of tea. After his breakfast he returned to his room and packed up his belongings and realized that there was little point in leaving early for the campsite as check in was after 12 noon. So he decided to go for a walk to kill time.

  Two hours later after getting hopelessly lost he managed to find his way back to the hotel. He went to the reception desk and announced that he was checking out and could they prepare his bill. “Monsieur Jones checkout is by 12 noon and it is now 12.30 and we will have to charge you for one further nights’ accommodation,” said the hotel clerk.

  Jones looked at his watch and it said 11.30, “But it is only 11.30 not 12.30.”

  “No sir, it is 12.30. I take it you came from England sir?” questioned the hotel clerk.

  “Yes, I did. I arrived yesterday afternoon.”

  “Well sir, there is an hour’s time difference between the two countries,” explained the hotel clerk.

  “Oh dear, I did not realise that there was a time difference,” replied Jones, feeling that he may be in for one of those everything going wrong days, a BJD, bad Jones day.

  “Are you packed and ready to leave Mr. Jones?”

  “Yes I am packed; all I have to do is pick up my luggage from the room.”

  “As it was a genuine misunderstanding, on this occasion, we will overlook the charge for one extra night,” Jones thanked the hotel clerk and rushed to his hotel room to pick up his luggage. He used the stairs as he did not want to wait for the lift. Five minutes later Jones arrived back at the reception desk huffing and puffing like an old steam engine.

  The hotel clerk just smiled. He loved it when on the odd occasion he could have power over the guests as so often they treated him like dirt. “Did you have anything from the mini bar sir?”

  No, the only thing that I had was breakfast in the dining room this morning.”

  “Well in that case there is nothing further to pay as the breakfast is included in the price of your room.”

  “Thank you, thank you for everything,” said Jones, almost bowing as he turned to leave. When he got into the car and started the engine the clock in the car read 12.55 hours.

  Jones Arrives At The Campsite

  Jones put the coordinates of Natura St Pierre into his sat nav, and headed off. Just over thirty minutes later he arrived at the gates and walked into the reception office where he was welcomed by Claude Dumont. Claude immediately knew that the person standing in front of him had to be British just by the way he was dressed. Only a British person would wear white socks sandals, short trousers, shirt and a panama hat. “Bonjour, my name is Claude, and welcome to our naturist campsite,” said Claude in English, as he got up from behind a desk totally naked and extended his hand.

  ‘Jesus, the guy is naked, he doesn’t have any clothes on,’ thought Jones as he automatically extending his hand. “Jones, Alan Jones,” almost squeaked Jones. He did not know where to look, and couldn't believe that this guy was naked as the day he was born. As he looked out through the window of reception he could see other people wandering around without any clothes. Jones’s brain was trying to figure everything out, how was it possible that he was at a place where everyone was naked? The penny then dropped nudist, naturist, naturism, naturalism, all very similar, what a blunder. It never crossed his mind that Peter and Sarah were talking about being naked as they talked about nature, photography, animals, birds and everything to do with nature.

  Claude could immediately see that this person was definitely a first time naturist just by his nervous behaviour. “Is this the first time you have visited a naturist campsite?” asked Claude.

  This was not the question that Jones had expected and for a moment really did not know how to answer it. Jones thought that he had better answer the question honestly. “Well in part, yes, it is my first visit to a naturist campsite; a couple of friends of mine suggested that I come here. I thought that was a naturalist site” replied Jones as he made a mental note to kill Peter and Sarah when he next saw them.

  “Yes this is a naturist site,” replied Claude wondering what Jones was going on about and put it down to the lack of understanding the English language.

  Jones decided to be diploma
tic and asked, “Are there any other campsites in the area with a similar name as I might be at the wrong site?”

  “No there are not, you are in the right place as I have your booking here. The other sites likes ours are all full as it is August, which is the busiest month. I think you will find that this is the best site in the area.”

  Jones realized that he better not make an issue about booking into a campsite full of naked people as he already knew that things were fully booked as he had to take an alternative flight, and he had the last available room in the hotel he stayed at, and he couldn’t hire the car that he had wanted. If he left here he would probably find it difficult if not impossible to find somewhere else to stay and really didn’t cherish the thought of having to sleep in the rental car. “Okay, thank you.”

  “Are you a member of the INF or BN?” asked Claude, smiling inwardly knowing that Jones was not.

  “The what?” asked Jones, not having a clue as to what he was talking about.