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This month our man in Wales gets beached and bewildered.

It’s crazy how quickly the seasons change. Doesn’t seem that long ago that I was freezing my knackers off on my lunch-break in Cardiff Bay, desperately clutching a freshly baked Greggs sausage roll for warmth. Now in the blink of an eye I’m sitting in my short-shorts in the park, enjoying baking hot Welsh sunshine and playing a rousing game of ‘spot the shirtless jogging beef’ – it feels like summer is here again!

One thing I am desperate to tick off my bucket list this summer is go to a nudist beach – or I should say, go to a nudist beach and actually get nude. Last year, not long after moving to Wales, me and the boy went down to Monknash Beach, just south of Bridgend – which we’d read was possibly a nudist beach or at least had an unofficial ‘bit’ where you could air your bits. But things didn’t quite go to plan: thank you very much social anxiety.

The beach itself is stunning. No cafes or toilets, no facilities at all, but it's glorious with a wide stretch of sand and dramatic cliffs. Where you arrive it’s quite busy with families, so we guessed that wasn’t the place to strip off. After cantering over a lot of loose pebbles and boulders that required goat-like agility and felt very much like the opening of an episode of Casualty, we reached a long stretch of much quieter beach. Was it here? Further up? No penises so far. We kept walking for what seemed like ages, and then suddenly up on the rocks beneath the cliff, nesting like puffins, were just a small number of chaps in the buff, all quite happily enjoying the sunshine. By this time though we’d lost our bottle, it weirdly became a bit awkward. I’m no prude at all, but suddenly we were there and they were naked , and we started flapping. Where would we sit? Lots of barnacle covered rocks but nothing comfy looking. Nobody else was eating but we had Tesco meal deals - could we eat? We realised we were dawdling and dithering for too long, so penises firmly between legs we turned and left. 

We walked back a little way and set up our own camp near a rock pool and enjoyed some paddling and sandcastle building. Then one of the guys from the nudist section – a handsome young twink with platinum blonde hair – started walking towards us. He’d put shorts on again to walk, but when he got near to us off came the shorts in one smooth move, and his lengthy willy came swinging into view. He didn’t say anything, but he did stop and sit on a rock just a few metres away from where we’d been mucking about, soaking up some rays and throwing occasional glances in our direction. Me and the boy wondered what was happening – were we being cruised? Should we say something? Do something? Should we get naked too? In the end you can imagine what we did, which was sweet bugger all – we just carried on what we were doing as though the twink wasn’t there and eventually he got up and moved on. Where's the instruction manual for this kind of thing?

So anyway, this summer we will be back, fully prepared this time. We know where it is, we know what the score is. And by the time the summer ends I am determined I'll be able to say for the first time ever, "I caught a lovely tan on my penis." Hooray!

Sam

@talldaddysam