Finally, Something We Can All Go To
I’ve been looking at everything Naturism Wales has started putting together for families and I have a problem.
I want to do all of it.
This is not financially responsible.
Nor, frankly, is it compatible with the number of weekends contained within a year.
But suddenly I’m looking at naturism across Wales and seeing opportunities for families to actually explore it, experience it and completely immerse themselves in it together.
And that’s exciting.
Really exciting.
Because for a long time, family life and naturism have sometimes felt as though somebody filed them in two separate drawers.
FAMILY.
NATURISM.
Please do not mix.
Except… why?
Naturism is already part of our family life.
Nobody wakes up in our house and announces, “Children! Today we shall practise “naturism”
Can you imagine?
They’d look at me as though I’d finally lost whatever remained of my mind.
We’re just a family.
We eat breakfast. We lose shoes. We argue about whose charger is whose. Somebody uses the last of something and carefully puts the empty packet back in the cupboard so the next person can experience disappointment.
We just happen to live naturally too.
So I’ve been watching Naturism Wales increasingly create opportunities where families aren’t simply allowed to be there.
They’re actually being thought about.
There’s a difference.
Family-friendly events. Camping. Getting outdoors. Walks. Wild swimming. Music. Entertainment. Workshops. Opportunities to meet other families and actually make friends.
Experiences where Mum isn’t disappearing off to “her naturist thing” while everybody else stays home.
The whole family gets memories from it.
And apparently I’m now at the age where that sentence makes me emotional.
Wonderful.
Thirty-one and crying over family activities.
Give me another ten years and I’ll presumably be weeping at garden centres.
But I think what gets me is the community part.
Children learn what community is by experiencing it.
They see adults talking to one another.
They see different generations mixing.
They watch somebody notice that another person needs a hand and simply help.
They make friends.
They watch their parents make friends.
They discover that community isn’t a building or an organisation or something adults discuss at meetings.
It’s people.
And when naturism is woven through that experience naturally, bodies don’t need to become the subject of the day either.
Nobody needs to sit a child down and deliver a seventeen-slide PowerPoint presentation entitled The Human Body: Please Remain Calm.
There are far more interesting things happening.
Someone has found a frog.
Someone wants to go swimming.
Someone else wants food despite having eaten eleven minutes ago.
One child has made a friend and disappeared into a game.
Another has acquired a stick of such extraordinary importance that apparently it must now come home with us.
That’s the sort of family naturism I love.
Not nudity as the attraction.
Life as the attraction.
Naturism is simply how we’re experiencing it.
And then Lauren went and wrote about Euronat.
Well.
That didn’t help my excitement levels at all.
Because Naturism Wales is heading there in 2027 and I desperately want us to go.
I’ve already mentally packed.
Physically packing will happen approximately eleven minutes before departure, obviously, but mentally?
Completely organised.
Euronat is enormous — a 335-hectare naturist village among the pine forests of the Médoc in south-west France, running all the way to the Atlantic and 1.5 kilometres of naturist beach.
But it was the family side that made my ears prick up.
There are four age-based children’s clubs, swimming facilities including a paddling pool and lazy river, sports, creative activities, nature activities and a programme that Euronat says reaches nearly 60 different activities during high season.
Four children’s clubs.
Four.
Do you understand what this means?
There is a theoretical possibility that I could finish a cup of tea while it is still hot.
France really does think of everything.
Although knowing my family, I could deposit everybody into age-appropriate entertainment and within twelve minutes somebody would find me because they urgently needed to tell me something about a stone.
And I’d secretly love that too.
What excites me about joining the Naturism Wales community at Euronat isn’t simply going on holiday.
It’s going together.
People we’ve met in Wales suddenly cycling past us beneath French pine trees.
Children recognising other children.
Families eating together.
Heading to the beach together.
People wandering off to do their own thing and bumping into one another again later.
That lovely holiday phenomenon where, after a few days, nobody can remember what day it is and everyone’s hair has given up.
Euronat itself describes naturism there as intergenerational, with families and other guests sharing the village, and specifically presents the resort as somewhere designed for family naturism.
And that, for me, connects beautifully with what I can see happening back here in Wales.
Naturism Wales isn’t merely giving families somewhere to turn up.
It’s increasingly giving us opportunities to live naturism.
To try something.
Go somewhere.
Meet somebody.
Get muddy.
Get wet.
Laugh.
Travel.
Camp.
Explore Wales.
Eventually get on a plane or ferry and explore beyond it.
Come home with stories.
That’s how children grow up understanding that naturism isn’t this peculiar separate world they occasionally visit.
It’s simply another part of a full, interesting family life.
Some weekends will be adventures.
Some will be gatherings.
Some will involve travelling.
Some will probably involve standing in the Welsh rain wondering whose idea this was.
And then, in 2027, hopefully I’ll be standing barefoot beneath the pine trees at Euronat thinking:
Oh. We actually came.
Although before any of that happens, I should probably locate the passports.
And the European plug adapters.
And everyone’s EHIC or GHIC.
Actually…
No.
It’s September 2026.
I have time.
Loads of time.
Absolutely nothing can possibly go wrong with this approach.
What experience would make you say, “Yes — that’s something I’d love my whole family to experience with Naturism Wales”?
