I shocked myself this morning when I realised that I’ve been blogging here for just over 12 months. It was on June 6 2011 that I first put finger to keyboard with a piece about my interest in a wide-ranging number of sports. That first post ended: “Those that can play sport, do; those that can't, teach. Those that can't teach, write about it, talk about it, express views of varying relevance and validity.... With a nod in the direction of my other interests, including real ale, as well as an occasional look at my professional life as a magazine editor, that is what this blog will do.”
In the 12 months since, I hope I’ve lived up that promise. It’s certainly been an enjoyable 12 months and if you delve into the archive of this blog, you’ll see that it has indeed been wide-ranging.
Football and ale have featured prominently, politics has nudged its way in occasionally, I’ve covered journalism, naturism, genealogy, business networking, my loathing for Dominic Littlewood..... I’ve never been short of topics and if there has been the occasional hiatus, it’s simply been down to time constraints rather than lack of ingenuity on your blogger’s part.
However, one thing doesn’t seem to have changed in 12 months - the dismal British summer weather. My third post, 366 days ago today, was about Nudefest, British Naturism’s annual seven-day extravaganza at Newperran Holiday Park in Cornwall. While acknowledging that those present had really enjoyed themselves, I posted: “The weather? Oh, the weather was dreadful. Howling gales, pouring rain, glowering stormclouds, only brief glimpses of the sun which is supposed to be the raison d’etre of naturism.”
Nudefest 2012, which took place from June 10-17, was equally storm-tossed. When Mrs W and I arrived on Thursday at about 1pm, there were already campers packing up their battered tents and heading home after less than four days. Once again, events which were designed to provide fun in the sun were moved indoors or simply abandoned (indoor nude archery, anyone? Thought not...).
It seemed to rain constantly, with an accompanying storm-force gale, from about 2pm on Thursday until late on Saturday evening and it was frustrating, to say the least, to wake on the final Sunday morning to see light clouds, blue sky and more than a hint of sun.
Still, as we did last year, we made the best of it and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The editor of British Naturism magazine gave a well-received talk about his work, a visit to Skinners Brewery in Truro will hopefully be repeated in 2013, the Eden Project played host to what I am told was an entertaining evening on the opening Sunday and there were pub games and a riotous quiz, as well as some excellent musical entertainment.
BN members Billy Bottle and Martine played a unique brand of soulful music at what should have been ‘Picnic in the Park’ but which twice became ‘Picnic in the Bar,’ the traditional sing-along around the piano on the final night seemed to be delivered with more gusto than ever before and Nudefest gave a couple of excellent young student musicians the opportunity to shine before an unexpected audience.
Lily and Meg are first-year Popular Music students at the University of Falmouth. A chance conversation saw them become part of the programme at the Eden Project evening, before they wowed a crowd of over 200 naturists at Newperran on the final night. I’ve seen a fair few musicians at BN events in my time, but never have I seen a hushed room so spellbound by what they were seeing.
As we made our way to our caravan late on Saturday evening, still full of adrenalin from conga-ing through the bar, out into the car park and back to the strains of “Is this the way to Amarillo?” Mrs W turned to me, smiled broadly and said: “You know, I really enjoyed myself tonight.”
Given the appalling weather, there can be no better praise for Nudefest 2012 than that.
