Nude awakenings: the misunderstood world of naturism

Andrew Welch would like to make it clear he has never had an orgy, thank you very much. Nor has he ever cavorted, prepared to cavort or even thought about cavorting. He is not a pervert, he is not corrupting your children, and he is not – for the love of God – ‘offending’ you. Andrew Welch is just a naturist, like millions of other people, and he’d love for you to join him some time.

“The British public tend to have this absurd stigma about it,” Welch says, with a touch of exasperation. “It’s about nakedness in general. They think there’s something immodest or unnatural about it, that by being naturists we’re doing something illicit. It’s so far from the truth that it’s laughable, it really is.”

Welch has been Commercial Manager for British Naturism (BN) – the national organisation for social nudists – for over a decade, joining a small and committed staff of part-timers at the Northampton-based non-profit. It’s his job to change minds and address the reputation surrounding a pursuit many dismiss as distinctly odd, conducted at best by elderly eccentrics with an unnerving love of volleyball, or at worst by sex-crazed elderly eccentrics with an unnerving love of volleyball. In reality, they barely even play volleyball.

Andrew Welch

When he took up the part-time role in 2004, in fact, Welch told this very newspaper that his appointment was “a dramatic step to say to people we are serious and sensible, that we are not going to take all this sniggering any more. Laugh if you wish, but listen to what we have to say.”

Over the last 13 years, he has excelled at an incredibly difficult job. It helps that Welch is neither elderly nor particularly eccentric; the genial 51-year-old explains naturism’s appeal better than anyone. Admittedly, he is the best. His other consultancy roles are with a naturist tour operator and with a Spanish nudist resort – an unrivalled CV.

“To be honest, I am the expert in my field,” he says, proudly. “No one has so many fingers in naturist pies as me. Perhaps even globally.”

Tonight that confidence will be clear for all to see, as Welch bares all in The Great British Skinny Dip, a Channel 4 documentary following him as he attempts BN’s biggest marketing drive to date – a mass naked swim – and meets a range of characters from the nudist communities around the country, from a former headmistress to a nervous trade union officer.

Over the last decade, his marketing work has seen attitudes to naturism slowly improve, helped by other pro-nudity campaigns, such as the feminist ‘Free the Nipple’ movement.

“The doors that get slammed in your face are still pretty surprising, but we’re trying to effect change in society and things have gotten better,” he says.

“We became more public facing and bullish in what we do, and our swimming programmes have grown exponentially. We’ve had to be adaptable, especially with the internet meaning people don’t need us as much to show them, but there is change. People seem to be realising that there’s enough horror in the world without needing to worry about the odd swimmer or bunch of naked people on a beach.”

Andrew Welch

Speaking on the phone fully-clothed (“It’s February, I’m not mad”), Welch explains his own nude awakening came in his early 20s. On holiday in France with his parents, he was walking to the beach and the path split before him. In one direction was a beach full of partly undressed people, in the other was a beach full of entirely undressed people.

“I just knew that one was for me,” he says. “I didn’t do anything about it at the time, because I was with my parents, but I just knew.”

A few years later, on a package holiday in Greece, Welch visited his first nudist beach and confirmed that instinct.

“I felt very comfortable and free, feeling the sun and wind on my skin, and I loved the experience of not having to conform any more. The fact you’re all there with no clothes on brings you together a bit, it’s a kind of understanding between human beings. I’m being me and they’re being them. It felt totally relaxing,” he says.

Ever since that first disrobing, Welch hasn’t shied away from telling people about his passion, comparing it to “recommending a good restaurant.” The fact many do hide their hobby for fear of judgment by friends, neighbours or family – something the documentary addresses tenderly – is to him a terrible shame.

“The culture has moved on, but there are still plenty of people who don’t tell a soul, which has held British Naturism back. We want people to follow the lead of LGBT groups and feel proud of it. It isn’t the same, I know, but that spirit of pride and equality is something we need to share.”

Welch is as practiced in extolling naturism’s virtues as he is at myth-busting. Aside from the social aspect of meeting new people, he cites the health benefits of gaining more vitamin D and fresh air; the positive impact it can have on one’s body confidence to see how people come in all shapes and sizes; and the sheer comfort of lolling about unconstrained by cumbersome clothes.

“When I go swimming in shorts now,” he says. “I am actually uncomfortable.”

As for the ageing demographic, he suggests that's simply par for the course.

“There are plenty of thing you can do without your clothes on that are active, but most of the things naturists do are indolent. Sunbathing, for instance, is just sitting around and perhaps not very exciting for a younger crowd. Old people are less under-confident in their bodies too. They think, ‘Oh, sod it ’ and don't care if their boobs are down to their knees or whatever. That’s our market.”

As it stands, the law is cloudy on nudity. Just last week a naturist gardener in Kent was judged to not be “flaunting his nakedness” by a Magistrates Court, after he faced 13 public order charges. It’s an example of the police and justice system taking an increasingly sympathetic view.

“The police know there is nothing wrong with it now, but we still tend to go places we’ll be left alone. Unfortunately, there aren’t many of those, so it’s part of the reason we’re always trying to promote the ‘nude pound’ so that venues and beaches realise the financial benefit of giving us a space.”

Welch has never had an altercation with prudish members of the public yet, but doesn’t practice in risky spots anyway. “As long as we’re not intending to cause alarm or distress it’s fine. We know the limits.”

Welch thinks it’s worth everyone trying naturism least once. Tonight’s documentary sees he and his fellow nudists (the terms are interchangeable) try and recruit more people with the organisation of a mass swim, the Great British Skinny Dip. Over six months, he arranges for numerous venues to hold swims on the same weekend in September, with the intention of gently introducing newcomers to the pursuit. One of those tentatively dipping their toe in is Welch’s relatively new partner and first in 10 years, Sheryn, who is seen overcoming her initial nerves and embracing limited naturism. Now, she and Welch swim twice a week at their local nude pool in Buckinghamshire.

“Skinny dipping seemed like a good way in, as a lot of people are probably OK with the idea of that – you can do it with friends, or if you’ve had a drink. People probably agree that it’s very relaxing too.”

The big dip (spoiler coming) was a roaring success, and more are now planned. As attitudes shift and naturism benefits, then, BN’s numbers may soon swell.

“The last survey, which was a proper one, conducted by Ipsos MORI five years ago, showed 6pc of people identifying themselves as naturists,” he says, excitedly. “That extrapolates to around four million people around the country. We are among you, and there’s more of us than you think.”

The Great British Skinny Dip can be seen on Channel 4 at 10pm tonight, and on 4OD thereafter