Apologies for not posting on here for a while. It’s amazing how your spare time completely disappears during a year peppered with minor accidents and illnesses. I’m absolutely not going to bore you with any of the details. Anyway, going back to one of the few highlights of my year, my summer holiday, amongst several snatched naked (nearly) experiences, I went on a completely spontaneous and impromptu short walk wearing nothing but my swim thong.

It was a hot early afternoon relaxing by the pool of my rented villa in the north of the fabulous Greek island of Kefalonia. It was a typically beautiful Greek island late June day, around 30 degrees Centigrade without the hint of a cloud in the pollution-light blue sky and just the gentlest of breezes to complete the beautiful conditions. I’d pretty much been poolside most of the day, alternating between sun and parasol shade while listening to music on my MP3 player and flicking through a magazine, interspersed with regular dips in the cool waters of the deep rectangular pool. Since breakfast, my outfit of choice was about as minimal as it gets, sunglasses, flip-flops and an incredibly fetching Olaf Benz swim thong in yellow, the colour officially and aptly re-named as ‘Sundance’.

I opted for a thong rather than full nakedness primarily because I really love wearing them but also, the retired owner of our rented villa lives next door and occasionally appears so I didn’t want to completely offend him as he seems quite an old-fashioned, conservative kind of chap. I’d just enjoyed a reasonably light, delicious, home-made Mediterranean lunch but felt a little full and sluggish once I’d positioned myself poolside again. I was also starting to feel a little restless, not unusual for me as I’m not great at sitting still for long periods of time.

I have stayed here before so know the immediate area fairly well. The secluded pool and gardens lead immediately out to a gravel parking area which you get to via a long private, car-width, gravel track. The track is flanked with tall bamboo which shields only stone-walled rolling fields which belong to the villa owner. Without really thinking or planning, I basically just got up and started walking, flip-flops, sunglasses and thong, that’s it, nothing else, I didn’t even carry anything in my hands.

I slowly flipped across the car park area leaving the pool and sunbeds behind. The sun is high but in front of me so I’m sort of heading west towards the sea. The private gravel track dips quite significantly, roughly in the middle and, I start to descend into it. It’s already a nice, liberating feeling and it immediately starts to make me think of doing more activities like this, not only here but back home too. I’m also impressed with the length of the private driveway, owning an area of property this size must be amazing but, totally prohibitive for all but the most wealthy where I come from.

I start to ascend out of the private driveway dip and the scenery opens up, fields separated by low stone walls; brightly painted distant holiday villa’s and closer abandoneddilapidated stone farmhouses. I soon reach a gravel road T-junction and turn left, after about 100 metres of further steep ascent I’m standing on a minor tarmac road facing a small white church wearing nothing but a thong! There’s nobody around, I wasn’t expecting there to be as I’m not exactly in an outfit suitable for socialising although, I’d love to find sociable situations where this outfit would be considered suitable. I can feel the heat reflecting off the white walls of the small adjoining cemetery and rising up from the tarmac as I start to slowly walk along the road next to the church. Fortunately, I’m about to swing off right from the tarmac onto another, more overgrown, but fairly long, straight and level gravel track. Fortunately because the church lies at the end of a sleepy street flanked on both sides by traditional, single-storey, habited properties, not exactly thong territory.

I crunch onto the new gravel track, still facing the sun, my thong separated buttocks now facing the church. It’s the sort of track which sees a very small amount of vehicles but, judging by the overgrown centre section, either side of the wheel-tracks, nothing has driven down here in a while. To the left is a low stone wall in various states of disrepair. To the right the landscape drops away and I can see in the distance our fabulous holiday accommodation. The hills beyond reveal further properties, lots of them dotted randomly amongst the greenery although, I’m fairly certain no one can see me unless they’ve been scanning the horizon intently with binoculars.

Wearing flip-flops mean you can only walk slowly, particularly on gravel which is a good thing. Having to walk at this pace means I’m taking my time, looking around, enjoying the walk, the scenery, the sun and relaxing as I go. I keep walking and the track becomes more private, closed in with tall pine trees and bushes on either side and I start to lose sight of the distant holiday villas. I get to a slightly tricky point, tricky when you’re only wearing a thong, it’s a low, rusty temporary wire fence fastened straight across the path, I assume to stop goats straying too far and heading to where I’m heading. I very gingerly straddle the fence, made much more difficult given my current footwear choice and, after some careful repositioning of feet and Lycra containment, successfully negotiate the afternoon’s most challenging moment.

After another couple of minutes the gravel track abruptly ends and narrows to a small dusty path flanked on either side by large, low and smooth dome-shaped stones protruding through the earth. I know where I’m heading and it’s not far away now. After a minute or so and ducking to avoid a low branch, the near silence I’ve been experiencing changes to a different tone, a distant gentle swishing of a calm sea making contact with cliffs combined with a gentle breeze filtering through the undergrowth. I’ve made it to a small opening high up and looking west out over the azure blue Ionion Sea. It’s difficult to judge just how high up I actually am, 100 metres perhaps? Maybe more? It’s the reason it’s so deserted here, there’s no beach for everyone to head to, nothing at all unless you know what you’re looking for.

It’s a great spot, fairly flat, backed completely with undergrowth, has amazing views and is utterly secluded. There’s even more of the smooth protruding stones to sit on. Not a soul knows I’m here so, after a few minutes of relishing the peace, natural beauty and solitude, I decide to slowly remove my yellow swim thong and hang it by the waistband on a nearby branch. It feels wonderful to be completely free of clothing, nobody can see me and I have a spectacular view in glorious weather. It feels like one of those all-to-rare moments in life of almost complete relaxation and utter contentment. The absence of clothes and any paraphernalia, predominantly, my smartphone, makes me start to yearn for a much more simpler lifestyle.

I have no idea how long I stayed here to enjoy the view, soak up the sun and embrace nakedness as I wasn’t even wearing a watch on this particular minimalist jaunt. At a guess it was only about 20 minutes or so, I vow to return another day with a towel to lie on and a drink to sip so I can stay for a prolonged fully naturist private afternoon.

As it’s so deserted I decide to begin the walk back naked. Initially it’s not a conscious decision, I’d actually left my thong gently swaying like a flag on the branch I’d hung it on after removal. A few retraced steps retrieves it and I place it over my head like a necklace cum bandana to keep my hands completely free. I love walking naked outdoors, it’s something I discovered only a handful of years ago now but the sensation, to me, is amazing. I’ve walked naked in five countries now including the UK, all in quiet public places of differing lengths of time and distance and I just can’t get enough of it. I know at which point along the gravel track it would be a good idea to position myself back inside my Sundance yellow swim thong and, that point is after re-negotiating the troublesome rusty wire fence once more.

I approach the fence at a snail’s pace, not because I’m worried about climbing back over it, I just want to savour this short stretch of naked walking. I position a foot; use my right hand to cup my valuables and the left to protect the area where the thong string usually disappears from view. I really don’t want to slip now and injure myself in such a delicate place. With one leg successfully swung over, I’m now straddling and must make quite a sight, especially as my thong is currently around my neck. A slow-motion lift and swing of the other leg and the danger is over, unless a group of keen holidaying ramblers should suddenly appear.

After a little more soft crunching on the gravel track, the pine tree and bush cover starts to thin which, in turn, brings the distant holiday villas back into focus. It’s time, I slip back into my thong and resume walking, although I can now feel the sun on the tops of my buttocks, they’ve had a lot of exposure today despite the factor 30 sun protection. It’s a gentle reminder that they aren’t as used to the freedom that other parts of body enjoy in everyday life.

Five minutes of further strolling and the top of the low church spire begins to come into view. I know that after I get to the only slight bend in the track next to a large solitary pine tree, the end of the sleepy street should also start to appear. It does, and after way to short a distance I reach the tarmac road once again. I stand stationary for a couple of minutes, just because I can really and also I realise that it’s something I may never get the chance to repeat, I make a point now to try and savour moments like these. I pat the church wall, smile, and slowly saunter back onto gravel and the private driveway once more. Back at the pool, by way of celebration, I throw my sunglasses on the table, kick off my flip-flops and hastily pull off my thong before unceremoniously entering the water.

I re-traced my steps while clothed and wearing appropriate footwear later that day in the early evening just before dinner with my smartphone mapping app running, just to see exactly how far I did walk in just a swim thong. It turned out to be only 1.86 miles in total, not far at all, although, it felt further probably due to the low speed flip-flop walking. Considering my minimalist of outfits, total lack of planning and, the skirting of a small village on a tarmac road, it was worth every step.

It really was totally spontaneous, utterly deserted and a huge amount of fun, just the way it should be.