As dawn broke, I felt an impending sense of dread. Would I be brave enough? Why was I wearing skinny jeans, the least easy thing to remove elegantly? A countdown began and everyone stripped off. I panicked for a second but realised it was my chance to shine and went for it. It wasn’t too scary running towards the sea but I then faced the purgatory of actually swimming in the very cold water or standing in public without clothes on, like a bad dream. I shouldn’t have worried, everyone was having a great time not really bothered about anyone else, more enjoying the beautiful Northumbria scenery
Swimming naked isn’t a sexual perversion. It’s natural and fun. Londoners might not have leapt out of their suits to join me, but nor did they pelt us with rocks like incensed Medieval peasants. Deciding whether or not to wear clothes might not be as important a human right as, say, having a free press or the right of assembly – but it is a choice people deserve to have. And I will unleash the naked lawyer on anyone who dares disagree.