Strolling onto the campsite, I couldn’t wait for a day of fun.
As we arrived, I spotted fellow campers milling about, slurping on their cuppas, while others took a dip in the pool.
Only, we weren’t kitted out for the campsite with loaded backpacks and hiking boots.
Nor were the swimmers wearing swimsuits and trunks.
Everyone was starkers.
That included me and my husband Simon, 48.
Despite the brisk breeze causing goosebumps across my bare breasts, it’s a sensation I’d gotten used to.
Waving hello to everyone, it was lovely to see their faces.
No, I wasn’t staring directly at their privates, or averting my eyes awkwardly.
Instead, this was my norm.
Not feeling the need to cover up all my wiggly and jiggly bits, instead, I felt free.
The cool breeze and
