Bums, Boobs and a stiff upper lip

Never is British reserve more on show than in the Wellness Centres in foreign Countries. The etiquette is almost entirely dependant on whether Brits are in the majority in the hotel.

We have just come back from Austria having stayed at a hotel with very few Brits. The complex has a superb pool and a separate, closed off area for the sauna and steam room.  A sign on the door quite clearly stated that no clothing was to be worn in this area. We had no problem with that. In such circumstances you tend to feel a bit of a dick (no pun intended) if you are sat clothed, amongst naked people, so we complied on each visit.

These are such strange places. For every naked Angelina Jolie there are fourteen naked Anne Widdicombes with similar levels for the Brad Pitt versus Arthur Mullard section. There are the fairly discreet people (we include ourselves in this category) as well as the flaunters. One particular Turkish man only needed a neon sign on his groin to make it more visible. Another, who based his look on the scousers from Harry Enfield, stationed himself everyday so he could see everyone that went in and out of the rooms.

Our only worry was Gladys Pugh. That wasn't her real name. She was Welsh and had no intention of sticking to the rules. She used the facilities every day along with her 14 year old progeny, totally ignoring the undress code. She was a laugh but we made sure we were in and out every day before she arrived. One hint of anyone whistling "Land of our Fathers" and we would be off like our arses were on fire.

All this has to be taken in the context of the era we were brought up in. At school, we though a woman was almost naked if she didn't wear a hat. It was so different then compared to now. Two of the funniest episodes I have ever witnessed were on nudist beaches. The first was a shock. There is always a certain noise level on beaches that you don't notice unless it alters radically. One day it did. It was a mixed beach in France with both nude and attired bathers. I was reading when I became conscious of the place going quiet. I looked up to see everyone staring at a man running along the waters edge. He was naked and something was banging each leg, just below the knee. I have never seen so many men put on trunks in a hurry.

The second was on the same beach. An elderly couple set up shop in front of us. I guessed they were around late 60's, early 70's. I was only in my early 20's so anyone over 40 was old back then. Both were naked. He wore a little white tash and they sat on fold away chairs eating lunch on a table they had brought with them. It was all very English and civilised. As they were eating we heard a voice. It was male, with a strong Scottish accent. "Och Noooo, ah dinna believe it" the voice exclaimed. I looked up to see a man, wearing shorts below the knee, sandals and socks and, a Tam O Shanter. A few yards behind him walked a woman, presumably his wife, wearing a full pinafore dress with sunhat and huge shopping bag. She looked as if she was on her way to Tesco.

The naked couple looked up in alarm as they got nearer but it was too late. By the time they reached their clothes, they had arrived. The Scotsman immediately put his arm around the naked woman exclaiming" Is it really you? Ye look marvellous". The next few minutes were excruciating as the poor old buggers tried their best to look relaxed and cover what they could. They failed. The Scots couple stayed for about five minutes, catching up on old times before giving their address and phone numbers "so you can keep in touch when we get home".

As soon as they were out of sight, the elderly couple dressed and beat a hasty retreat. I am sure they assumed that over 700 miles from home, in a foreign country, they would be safe. They weren't.