Bristol gets naked!

I am late, which is embarrassing. I join the procession in town, no time for body paint or indeed to take any clothes off. I pedal along fully clothed and have never felt so self conscious about wearing a pair of tracks suit bottoms in my life.

After a slow and ungainly mid cycle strip tease I find myself on college Green. I’m a bit of a wuss, I have on flesh coloured undies and I am surrounded by naked people, in fact next to me is a man on a massive unicycle head and torso above the rest us who is totally starkers and has to mount and dismount every time we pause. That is bravery. Or exceptional exhibitionism, probably both.

After pausing for some pictures, many, many random people are taking them, and after noone takes up the offer of naked yoga from the lone beardy guy, we cycle on and around town. The dress up is fantastic, an Avatar contigent provides lots of blue boobs and I am cycling behind three cowboys with no pants but pink hats and multi -coloured tutus. A man next to me in a bear suit has “As bare as you dare” on a placard, a bit rich as he is wearing a massive bear suit. Body paint comes in all forms, patterns, pictures, slogans, my favourite being “Less gas more ass.” This is a good phrase I feel, and applicable to many situations.

The response from people on the street is fantastic. Everyone waves and cheers and beeps. There is, understandably, an inordinate amount of photographs taken.

Half way up Stokes Croft someone pedals into the back of me and we both lose our balance, he comes off his bike. Jesus, these things are normally a bit awkward, try it naked with a member of the opposite sex. There is a great sense of companionship en route however. Someone gets a puncture and the whole procession of 300 odd people stops. It’s a gloriously sunny day and we all check each others back for sunburn.

We reach The Full Moon where the cycle ride started from and finishes and we regretfully put our clothes back on. I mention to one of my fellow cyclists that it feels a bit inappropriate to put clothes on now. I then have a moment of panic when I cant find my track suit bottoms in my bag, ha ha very funny God please stop it... I envision the long bike ride home in knickers or the “hilarious” announcement over Slyvie’s megaphone “Kesty has lost her trousers, I repeat, Kesty has lost her trousers does anyone have any clothes that she can borrow?” Thankfully they have burroughed their way into the bottom of my funky Montpelier style panier and I can cycle home fully clothed. A naked bike ride is fantastic as a group activity but I imagine a solo journey might be less enjoyable.