Lifes Windows

In Waterstones last Thursday (the most uninspiring book shop, makes me not want to buy books) standing by the upstairs till, scanning the shelf’s for books I wasn’t going to buy. Up trundles a man with a squeaky voice, sure sign of an eccentric or loon. He asks for books on naturism. I did a mental double take, maybe he said nature, but no, he wants books about people swanning around in their unshaven naked glory, or gory more likely.

I was looking at the shelf trying to not let my lips crack into laughter. I admired the assistant’s professionalism. He didn’t even smile, a straight face throughout, even when reading out titles such as; “Naturism and the family” and “Naturist photography”, both out of print apparently, and for him unfortunately.

So the man who likes communal nakedness left the shop disappointed. I looked to the assistant for some acknowledgement of the humouress nature(ism) (sorry) of the situation. No, not even a smile. What professionalism.

Maybe naturism isn’t funny and I am incredibly unenlightened, immature, and jealous of their uninhibited nature(ism). (Again..)