If I tell you I am sitting on a balcony typing these words in the glorious Queensland sun, you will possibly be envious. If I tell you I am nude, you will probably think me deviant. I wonder why? The difference is a few grams of cotton or, worse, polyester. As I am, I must ensure that I am hidden.

Since its inception in 1920s Europe, the naturist movement has had to hide. The first nudist communities were built on islands or secreted behind converted chateau walls. Medical doctors Gaston and André Durville established the original French naturist camp, Physiopolis, on an un-bridged island in the Seine an hour upriver from Paris. The Durvilles went on to start their first permanently nude residential colony, Heliopolis, on Le Levant island in the Mediterranean, a one-hour boat ride off the French Riviera. It flourishes still, seventy-seven years later, an entire town with hotels, bakery, supermarket, post office and local police station. I’ve been there twice.