&#65279

It was considered locally, that George must have been starved of oxygen for a few moments during his infamous heart attack, and that in turn had led to the odd behaviour he began to exhibit shortly afterwards. It wasn’t just that he answered the door to the Avon lady in the nude, but that he took to even more bizarre naked stunts, like nude lawn mowing.

Not content with the visual shock factor for those who had the misfortune to catch him in the altogether, George would regale anyone who would listen with tales of his naked exploits. Often at some point in a telephone call, he would kill the conversation stone dead with a casual remark like ‘Right now, I’m sitting here in the nude talking to you’ which most callers found quite off putting. Family members told him straight, ‘Don’t bother telling me that kind of rubbish’ and so George would, during conversations with them, say something along the lines of ‘It’s getting a bit nippy. I think I ought to go and put some clothes on,’ thereby letting them know they had, yet again, been speaking to a naked George. Those in the know would never call at the house unannounced, fearing the sight that may greet them on arrival. Instead they would call ahead and plainly say ‘Make sure you put some clothes on before I get there’ George would comply, but would leave some part of his body exposed, usually the huge expanse of belly-chest that hung over his trousers. The windows would be open, the house freezing, but George would explain his state of undress by saying that he was too hot. Very few visitors ever took off their coats, for fear of hypothermia and, in an attempt to ward off frostbite, George’s wife would often be found indoors wearing at least three jumpers, a pair of gloves and a scarf. It seems that the being naked thing had all started when he had decided on a spot of nude sunbathing in the back garden, which was reasonably sheltered, save for the uninterrupted view afforded to the neighbours on either side. George would lay on his sun-bed like a beached whale and slowly toast himself to a crisp. Strangely enough for a man who claimed he was seeking an all-over tan, he spent an awful lot of time laying on his back.

There were a family of Egyptians living in the house to the right and the children would peer at George from the upstairs windows, pointing and giggling. Their mother, on going upstairs to investigate the source of such hilarity, peered through the window, blinked several times in rapid succession and upon seeing that she had not been mistaken in her view, quickly closed the curtains and sent the children downstairs to watch cartoons on television. She was far too embarrassed to even mention what she had seen to her husband when he returned from work that evening. Although she hated the thought of having to live alongside a pervert, her embarrassment at what she had witnessed bought her silence.

The house on the left was occupied by an elderly couple, Phyllis and John Parker. He was in his eighties and crippled with arthritis, a little deaf and almost blind. His wife with near-perfect hearing and vision, was several years younger, although still elderly and heavily reliant upon support from her grandchildren who visited regularly. Phyllis Parker had often seen George from her window, sunbathing in the nude and thought him a rather odd fellow. She had told her husband and daughter what she had seen and they had laughed about it, agreeing George was a very strange character indeed. Phyllis didn’t really care what the silly man did in his own garden, although she had to admit she would prefer he didn’t parade himself around quite so much. It was when her granddaughter started coming around once a month to clean the windows and change the net curtains that the trouble began. It seemed to her that George had taken the trouble to notice there was a younger face in the upstairs window every now and then. She suspected him of watching for Leonie’s arrival, because within minutes George would be outside in his garden naked as the day he was born. Sometimes he would sunbathe and other times he would potter around, plucking dead leaves from plants, bending and stretching with mock exaggeration. It really was quite comical to watch his posturing and posing. One day he stood suggestively spraying the garden with a hose pipe, and that was what really did it. He waved at Leonie as she stood in the upstairs window, squinting against the sunlight, looking for smears on the glass she was cleaning. She saw him and squealed, knocking a glass ornament from the window ledge. The ornament smashed when it hit the floor and a sliver of glass ricocheted off the skirting board and gashed her leg. Leonie screamed again and all hell broke loose. The blood poured from the wound and, unable to stem the flow, Phyllis was forced to call for help. Leonie was taken to hospital in an ambulance and had five stitches in the cut to her leg. Meantime her parents were summonsed and, upon hearing the tale of events, Leonie’s father left the hospital, got into his car and drove to his mother-in-law’s house. He parked the car in the drive and marched straight round to number 72 and began to hammer on the door.

George was in the garden and didn’t hear the commotion at the front of the house. He was putting away his deck chair and was in the shed when Terry Hudson was banging on the door and screaming threats that were not in the least bit veiled. ‘Come out here you bloody pervert’ he screamed at the closed door, his face reddening with rage ‘Flash your cock at me and I’ll cut the ruddy thing off for you’ he added.

Passers-by paused to watch the scene unfolding outside number 72. Terry was losing momentum, having been ignored for most of his rant. He tried one last series of bangs on the front door, which George heard as he came in from the garden through the back of the house. Wondering whoever could be making such a noise, George reached for his robe which he kept on a hook in the hallway. Wrapping the robe around his vast middle and tying the cord loosely, he ruffled his hair with his hand and rubbed his eyes for a moment before opening the door a crack and squinting into the daylight.

‘What the...’ he began as the irate Terry Hudson reached through the gap and physically pulled George out through the door and into the garden Terry grabbed George ‘s robe and almost lifted him off his feet. George could feel the man’s breath on his face and felt drops of spittle landing on his skin as Terry proceeded to let him know, in no uncertain terms, exactly what he thought of him and his nude shenanigans.

A small crowd gathered to watch as Terry shook George in time to the words he was yelling into the terrified man’s face.

‘Don’t -you-ever-do-anything- like -that- again-‘ Terry spat as he rattled George’s rather heavy frame. ‘If you so much as look at another member of my family I’ll...’ Terry realised he had run out of steam. For the first time, he noticed the crowd of astonished onlookers. He quickly released George and stepped away from him. ‘You see what I’ll do. Just you try me’ he added, glaring as he walked down the path and along to the neighbouring drive ‘But...’ George was flabbergasted ‘I didn’t do anything’ he whined, looking into the crowd in the hope of finding some support. He was the victim here. He was the one who had just been assaulted on his own doorstep. The crowd, realising that the show was now over, looked disinterested and began to disperse. George pulled his robe about him indignantly and turned back towards his house. He really couldn’t see what all the fuss was about?

This is a wonderful and flowing piece of fiction. Amusing and comical that is totally believable, reflecting what could actually happen now - today.

The Egyptian family and how the mother's silence is bought, along with the man threatening George on the doorstep. Amazing that George put on a dressing gown in the first place.

Lovely Christa - Best of Luck with this novel.