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It was Mr Ivor Jones (spelt B-A-S-T-A-R-D), my games master at Cardiff High School, who re-introduced the then 12 year-old me to the 'joys' of naturism (I'd done a bit before without realising it when an infant) by making me, very reluctant though I was at first, get all my 'kit' off and have a shower, completely 'starkers', with the thirty or so other naked 12 year-old boys that made up the rest of form 2B of 1964/65, after our first gym lesson with him. Under his watchful eye (just this once mind!) Ivor made us all 'parade' stark bollock naked in front of him as he mentally counted us all in, one by one, through the line of showers and then out again the other end, to make sure that no shy little boys (e.g. me!) escaped this ordeal - (he appeared to be secretly counting our genitals rather than our heads, as it was not unknown for bashful and optimistic boy to try and sneak in wearing swimming trunks!) before leaving us for his obligatory morning 'fag' and cup of tea while we all dried ourselves and got dressed.
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