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- 05/30/2025
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The story is told largely through Gray Philpott’s first-person narrative, with occasional passages of dialogue in order to give Vince Philpott something of his own voice.
Not just another Summer - 26. Naked tea & LGBT history
After all the excitement of the previous day, I decided to keep a low profile on Sunday. I assembled coffee and breakfast and took it into the garden. I had plenty of reading to do and quickly became absorbed. I had skittishly thought of being naked, but to be like that in the garden seemed going a bit far without informing Vince, it was a shared house after all. Wise choice. For when Vince appeared late morning, he was fully dressed. And when Peter eventually did appear, he too was in t-shirt and jeans.
“What are you working on?”
“Well, I’m ploughing through my reading for the article.”
Vince chuckled. “That pile?”
“Confession time: I am not reading every word of every book. But just enough. I’ve now taken a break, as I’ve realised that I need to be a bit more organised.”
“About your reading?”
“No, about work in general.”
“You mind?” And Vince sat down next to me. “How organised?”
“Well, I’ve got rather more irons in the fire than I usually have. Poems for Simon at the Castle Gift Shop, ideas for more projects with him, readings or events for him and the Centre, two for them. My other projects: you know, the photos and of course my articles. Then I’ve got another interview.”
He gave an exaggerated double-take. “After the last one?”
“It was Simon’s idea; he knows someone at a glossy magazine. Essex Country Living or something.”
“Well, I suppose they are more likely to go for your taste in décor than your opinion of Dad.”
“I thought I would give it a go. They are coming on Wednesday.”
“Here?”
I gave a rueful grin. “They wanted a photograph in the house. Do you mind?”
Vince’s laugh was hearty. “And show off our classy taste in decorating? No, go ahead. You don’t need…”
I glared, and then chuckled. “Thank you, but I don’t think I need a minder this time. That reminds me, I dug out some early notebooks and found rough drafts of A Boy Alone. I thought that I would use them in my talks at the Centre.”
“You’ve still got those?”
“Every single notebook, including the ones rather damp round the edges.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Mind out of the gutter, please! 17-year-old me on a bicycle out in the countryside, notebook tucked under my shirt to try and keep it dry in the rain.”
He smiled, point taken. “A lovely image.”
“By the way, what’s in the attic? You said that there were some boxes of my old things.”
“Just a couple of boxes, I think, books and photos for certain and some of your schoolwork. When they were clearing the house, I came over to collect my things and there were boxes of yours. I said to put them in the attic.”
“No doubt the prizes and certificates.”
“May well be. You want to look?”
“I admit to being curious about the photos, but not yet. I thought I did, but…”
“No digging yet?”
Peter appeared. “We need to be going soon.”
“Going anywhere nice?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “This one has clients racing today and he didn’t think to say.”
Vince shrugged. “Yacht club race in the Estuary. We’re taking Freddie. He was keen and I thought it might take his mind off yesterday. We should be able to grab lunch and watch the boats.”
Peter’s smile held an amused tolerance and something else warmer. “You can tell he’s mad keen and an expert on yacht races, can’t you?”
“Well, enjoy.” I smiled. “Though rather you than me.”
“Philistine!”
Peter turned to me. “When we’re back, we are doing tea if you’d like to join us.”
Vince opened his eyes wide. “Proper tea and cakes. Oh, and clothing optional.”
I blinked.
Vince gave an exaggerated shrug. “Well, if you can do it… Besides, Peter convinced me that we can.”
Peter gave a surprisingly impish smile. “And I figured that I was missing out.”
Freddie’s voice could be heard calling from the house. “Sounds like our alarm. See you later.”
---
After a productive morning, all the reading was doing my head in, so I cycled down to the Reserve. Mainly because I knew I could sit there in peace.
An hour of bliss, despite the other visitors. I realised that I should have messaged Matt. He surely couldn’t spend every day working, could he? Though, I suppose he had to help his mum too, and I had visions of them doing a big shop, making their stately way round the aisles. Or rather Sandra making her stately way and Matt constantly scurrying off to fetch things under her instruction. The image made me smile. Fondly.
I messaged him, saying I had gone to the Reserve on impulse and regretted not letting him know. I got a smiley icon back with a comment that he and Mum had done their regular shop this morning, then he’d helped her as she was ‘turfing lots of stuff out’ and the council were coming to collect it tomorrow. And he still had some course work to do, and his bread was ready, and he was looking forward to a nice quiet soak in the bath this evening. I messaged back saying that all his activity made my head spin, but perhaps I would come and join him in the bath, with a string of emojis to let him know it was a joke. He replied in kind.
When I got back, Vince’s car was in the drive. So I slipped into the annexe and had a quick shower to get my sweaty self a bit more presentable.
“Ah, here he is!” Vince smiled. He was sitting in the garden, already without clothes.
“Isn’t it a bit cold for exposing your bits to the breeze?”
Vince laughed. “Evidently, I was being wimpish when I objected. I am reliably informed by Peter and Freddie that it is still warm enough.”
I slipped off my shorts and tested the temperature. “Just. Though we won’t be doing this for much longer.”
“Hear that?” Vince turned to Peter and Freddie who had appeared with trays of tea and cake.
We sat around, helping ourselves and pretending that being naked was perfectly natural. In a way it was, I suppose. I was impressed by the way Vince, in typical Vince fashion, once the decision was made had embraced the idea. Freddie kept discreetly eyeing up his dad and Peter, then catching himself doing so and stopping.
Vince frowned. “We certainly won’t be sitting outside like this for much longer.”
Freddie smiled brightly. “But we can get naked inside the house.”
“Hold your horses! This isn’t going to be a daily occurrence. It’s a special occasion thing. Besides, I doubt we’ll want to afford to heat the house as much as that. Heating costs money and that hall is huge.”
Freddie exclaimed, “That’s just what Arvid’s dad says! Their house is quite cold in the Winter.”
Peter smiled. “So you’ll be used to it.”
“Arvid has lots of thick sweaters that his mum makes him. He hates them.” Freddie grinned.
“Well, don’t look at me”. Vince grimaced. “I’m not taking up knitting. If you’ve not got enough warm gear, we can buy you some.”
Peter’s eyes twinkled. “We can go shopping for both of you, a family outing”.
Vince and Freddie groaned. But what I noticed was Peter’s use of the word ‘family’. Well, he was, wasn’t he? Family?
Conversation moved to more mundane matters, plans for the week, where Vince was going to be as he had a big court case, all that sort of thing. The fact that Freddie wouldn’t simply be able to park himself at Arvid’s came up a couple of times. Though I gathered that they had haunts they visited, and they would be at The Grange as well.
Then Freddie suddenly piped up, “Why do people like Arvid’s father think that gay people are unreliable?”
The three of us looked at each other and I sniggered. “I blame it on Larry Grayson.”
Freddie stared. “Who’s that?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “TV personality in the, what? 1970s? For a long time, the only gay people who were visible, particularly on TV, were camp men like Larry Grayson and John Inman.”
Vince nodded. “Homosexuals were TV entertainers, hairdressers, actors, dancers. That was Dad’s view, to a certain extent.”
I nodded. “In a way, I suppose. Gay men were suspect, they had to prove themselves serious.”
Freddie looked confused. “Why was that?”
Peter smiled. “Ah! The big question. In the 1950s, homosexuality was regarded as fundamentally wrong. And because it was illegal, gay men were always in danger of being blackmailed. You know all this.”
“Yeah, I’ve read about stuff like that.” Freddie said it as if it was distant history. I suppose it was to him.
“The threat of blackmail meant that gay men were regarded as thoroughly unreliable in any sort of secure job. In the 1950s and 1960s there were no ordinary gay men, there were those who were hiding and had ordinary jobs, and those who were flamboyant.”
I smiled. “Sticking two fingers up effectively, being camp, flamboyant, or just plain outrageous.”
“And hence, unreliable.”
Freddie looked perplexed. “But that was, like, ages ago.”
Peter laughed. “Things take time to change. You inherit attitudes from your parents and often people don’t change, don’t think things through. You’re brought up with the idea that being gay is somehow immoral, that gay men are unreliable arty types and hairdressers, and don’t question it.”
Vince stood up, which meant of course that his dick was now much closer to eye level. Freddie’s eye’s widened somewhat.
“I think we can draw a line under this discussion for the moment. Otherwise things are going to get a bit heavy.” He turned to Freddie. “There’s no quick answer to your question, and we can talk about this lots more. That OK?”
“Thanks Dad.”
I made a mental note to mention something to Bas. There must be books or films that might shed a bit of light on this aspect of history, rather than relying on our fragile memories. And Vince’s comments about Dad had been interesting. We’d never had a fight about me being gay; he and Mum had, well, if not accepted at least acquiesced. I wasn’t going to change. But did that mean he’d thought I was unreliable until proved otherwise?
---
Bas
The ‘alarums and excursions’ with Freddie’s friend’s parents continue. They erupted on Saturday with just Freddie and his friend Arvid and I there. At Philpott Towers. Evidently, I wasn’t a reliable person to supervise the boys. For that, presumably read “queers are all immoral flakes”. I ask you!
Poor sod. The friend is going to be closely monitored, and we are not proper people. Wait till the parents find out Vince is queer too!
And that we have tea naked. Yep. Happened. Vince was cool, as was Peter. The word “family” was used. So despite the ups and downs (think there are more of those than they let on), they are persisting. Good on him, really.
Freddie came out with a great question at naked tea. “Why do people think queers are unreliable? Discuss!” Do you have any literature or films that might be useful to explain recent LGBT history for a lively queer 15-year-old?
And me? Well, my twitcher and I continue to move gently. And I’m enjoying a change of pace.
And working. Yep. Had to buy a new batch of notebooks. Imagine!
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.