I am a little scared of my naked ambition

I am in Spain, in a place near Vera, called Garrucha, and 11 of us are staying in a villa on the beach and it's beautiful.

To be honest, I am just thankful that we arrived safely.

Because there are 11 of us and because the Teen and I will leave here in nine days to visit Granny, I have hired a car.This is bad news for other road users, my heart and my mental health.Getting here was sort of a nightmare.

Nick, who was leading the convoy (three cars) promised to drive slowly on the mountainous motorways, but his idea of slow is 190km per hour. My Corsa, which incidentally was frighteningly full of dents and scratches when I picked it up, can cope with neither speed nor mountain and was swerving and juddering the entire "short drive" that I was promised (two hours).

As for the tolls, signs and everything else involved in driving on the right, I don't want to think about it.The two teens were not helping matters – one could only find hillbilly tunes on the radio while the other was yelling at me to speed up, tossing in remarks like "snail’s pace" and "lost" for good measure.

Then the moment we arrived, I noticed several naked people milling around the village.

It would appear Vera is a popular naturist location."Oh didn't we explain?" said Nick, who despite being a borderline Fascist has a very liberal attitude towards nudity.

"The prude beach is to the left, the naturist beach is to the right," he explained.

So that's two things I need to overcome in two weeks. Driving and nudity.

So, I might venture to the right, when I'm feeling brave and not accompanied by the family Walton. I will let you know.

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