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Jingle Balls

W prefer our Christmas without the trimmings...!


Published by: Jean Jollands and Amanda Revell Walton
Published on: 8 December 2011

There's nothing like a Christmas knees-up. The clubhouse was decked with holly, and seasonal songs filled the air. Wearing a pair of sparkly earrings and a red tinsel boa, I felt fantastic as I walked to the dance floor. ‘You look beautiful,' smiled my hubby Leonard, 70.
But he wasn't complimenting what I was wearing - spending ages choosing an outfit isn't something I have to worry about!
Just like Leonard and the other 40 partygoers, I was as naked as the day I was born.
And no, it wasn't some seedy, sex party either. It was the Oxford Naturist Club's Christmas get-together - in the all-together! Everyone was in the buff, and the only suits the blokes wore were their birthday suits.
Well, at least it saved money on getting dolled-up!
‘Oi! Careful where you stick that mistletoe!' Leonard chuckled, as we smooched along to Jingle Bells.
We were in a specially-built clubhouse just outside Oxford, surrounded by 11 acres of woodland, and the only creatures likely to see our wobbly bits were the local wildlife. Except for us being starkers, ours was like any other Christmas party with folk there of all ages - the eldest was in his 80s.
The only people wearing a stitch of clothing were those who had volunteered to do the cooking.
And all they had on were aprons. Well, we didn't want anyone's body parts accidentally getting basted with turkey fat!
After a slap-up meal, we enjoyed a festive sing-along, and even had a dance in the nuddy. Me and Leonard had first fallen in love with naturism on a holiday in Corfu 28 years ago, when we'd stumbled across a nudist beach. We'd felt like lemons standing there in our clothes while the locals bared all, cheerfully soaking up the sun.
‘Well if you can't beat ‘em, join ‘em!' Leonard, then a civil servant, had joked, as we'd nervously stripped off. I'd been terrified everyone would gawp at my bits, but no one batted an eyelid.
We'd felt so liberated swimming in the sea without being trussed up in a cossie, and l'd loved feeling the air and sun on my skin. It wasn't pervy or weird - it was just a wonderful sensation of freedom.
‘I can't wait to do that again,' I'd giggled to Leonard. So we'd joined the Oxford Naturist Club, or Oxnat as it's known. Members came from all walks of life including a builder, a bus driver, and even a member of the House of Lords!
We'd been impressed by just how accepting everyone was - not just of their own bodies, but everyone else's.
‘None of us are supermodels,' said one full-figured lady in her 50s. ‘But being here has helped me appreciate my body for what it is.'
It was great to be around like-minded people and enjoy a game of ping-pong, meal, or a gossip, all the while being naked. It was definitely a relaxing break from my job as a sales manager!
When we told our friends, family and work colleagues no one said anything nasty - at least not to our faces! ‘Why not!' most people told us. And now, watching everyone having a good time, just naked while they did it, I couldn't have been happier.
‘Good job the heating's turned up, eh?' winked Dilys, 54, handing me and Leonard a glass of wine each. We had a huge wood-burning stove roaring away.
‘I'm sure the men are grateful,' I laughed, nibbling on a chipolata.
‘Exactly! Talking of cold, remember when we went carol singing in your back garden,' Dilys chuckled.
‘Do I!' I smiled. Before the clubhouse was built, Leonard and me volunteered our place for the annual Christmas get-together. Back then, we'd lived in a large house with a sauna.
One year, we were all so merry, 40 of us piled into the back garden to sing Christmas carols - all starkers apart from our Santa hats!
‘Good job the neighbours haven't peeked over the hedge!' I'd chuckled as we'd belted out ‘...ding dong merrily on high...!'
One year, we'd even hired a hall next door to the local police station! We'd decided to do something different, so organised a roller skating party. Unfortunately, one lady in her 30s had trouble negotiating her skates and crashed straight through the emergency exit. She'd ended up in the car park behind the police station - with nothing on but her skates!
‘Are you injured?' I'd asked when she'd finally coasted back in.
‘N-no,' she panted. ‘But I think I gave the local bobby an eyeful!'
It's why having our very own clubhouse for our Christmas bashes is brilliant. Of course, when we all arrive we're fully dressed, but we strip off as fast as we can.
But I have to admit boogying in the buff is a tad different. Even when you stop dancing, the rest of you keeps swinging away! And if a slow dance comes on, most of us prefer to stick to our partners. After all, we wouldn't want a male member to get excited...!
A few years back, Frank, a portly man in his 40s, bounded up to me at the start of a Christmas song waving a pair of boxers. ‘They're my "close dancing drawers",' he grinned. ‘So our bits won't touch!'
‘No thanks!' I thought, with or without the boxers!
We've even put on a Christmas panto, which involved some of the men in tutus - hairy legs and all!
Last year, Oxnat celebrated its 30th anniversary. This Christmas, it'll be business as usual so we're all looking forward to another Merry Christmas and Happy Nude Year!
Jenny Harris, 64, Witney, Oxfordshire