Nude

When I was younger I would do almost anything to avoid being alone. I was actually deeply insecure about it. Occasionally I would have these visions – really, really vivid waking dreams where I would be in the present but after some kind of apocalypse had taken place and I would be the only person in the world - completely alone.

That was a long time ago. As an adult, especially in my thirties, I really value the time that I get to spend by myself. The house that I live in is very conducive to being by one’s self. It’s homely and warm – alive. Maybe that’s the key – although I know I’m alone I feel that I am in the company of my home?

One of the things that I like most of all about being by myself is that feeling when you realise that you haven’t spoken out loud for hours and hours.

Last night I took the state of being alone one step further. While I am by no means a prude, I am not (always) comfortable with being completely naked (note the importance of the previous parenthetical!). Even if there is no one at home, I will generally put on some underwear before venturing from my bedroom to the bathroom to take a leak.

Last night I found myself at home, alone, wearing just a pair of tracksuit pants. For some reason I decided to be bold and took everything off to, you know, see how it felt, to see if I could just get used to the idea of being nekkid, without any sexual undertones, without feeling overly self-conscious or stupid.

So I “disrobed” and watched some TV and for a while I did feel kind of stupid. So I decided the best thing to do was to not just lie on the sofa, sans clothing, but to do stuff around the house.

So I tidied my room and hung out my washing (fortunately we have an indoor clotheshorse) and sorted through some of my clothes.

After that I was really completely oblivious to the fact that I was in my birthday suit. I decided that I would do the washing-up. So I stood there and washed the dishes and happily sang along to Fleetwood Mac.

As I finished cleaning the last dish I looked up and saw the guy who lives opposite us, stood in his kitchen window, staring directly at me. For a moment our eyes locked. And then we both scurried away with that unique brand of acute-embarrassment that is very poorly disguised as some sort of vacant absent-mindedness.

Needless to say I was somewhat mortified. So I went and put my tracksuit pants back on.

And a yashmak.