Letters from Blackwell Island Pt. 01

"Allie, darling, thank you for calling!"

"Hi, Mags," I responded.

"I take it from your call that you've reached a decision about our offer?" the features editor ventured.

"I have indeed," I answered. "Or rather, we've reached a decision."

"And? Don't keep me in suspense here!"

"Having discussed all the pros and cons with my husband, and even after having given the whole naturist thing a try, our decision is to accept."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mags enthused gleefully.

"Well, let's hope so!"

"So, you actually gave naturism a try? Where?"

"We went to a naturist place near Bournemouth," I explained. "I had to twist Patrick's arm to come along, and both of us were well out of our comfort zones, but we put on a brave face and bared all and it was actually quite wonderful. You ought to give it a try, Mags."

"Oh, definitely not!" Mags chuckled. "Stripping off and wandering around naked may be Carole's scene but it definitely isn't mine!"

"Well, each to their own I guess," I replied. "But one thing's for sure is that Patrick and I are 'textiles' no more - we're nudies now."

"Brilliant!" Mags exclaimed with a resounding belly laugh. "So, I suppose the next step is to arrange a meeting with the pair of you to make whatever arrangements need to be made and sign all the contracts that need to be signed. How does next Friday suit you?"

"I'm free all day," I responded. "Both of us are."

* * * * * *

"Very classy joint," Patrick observed as we took in our surroundings.

We'd arranged to meet up with Mags and Carole for a business lunch at a Spanish restaurant overlooking the Middle Dock at Canary Wharf.

"We like it, don't we, Mags," Carole answered as she enjoyed the spread of Tapas set before us.

"A regular haunt of ours," Mags observed. "I love their Cojonudo especially - it's to die for!"

"So, now that we're here I guess we ought to talk business," Carole said as she poured herself a glass of chilled white wine.

"Yes," I concurred, keen to get started on making all the necessary arrangements for our move to Blackwell Island and to begin our new adventure together.

Despite his assurance that he was happy to join me on Blackwell and the recent success of our first foray into the world of nudism, I could tell that Patrick still had misgivings about living in a state of permanent nudity. But I knew that he wouldn't stand in the way of what was, when all is said and done, a golden career opportunity for me. Even so, throughout that lunch meeting he remained pretty withdrawn and only contributed when he was asked for his feelings on the whole thing.

"I just couldn't allow myself to stand in the way of Allie's career," he responded to Carole's query. "Being a writer for a magazine is all she's ever dreamed of, and it'd be a pretty heartless of me not to support her and to stand between her and her dream, even if spending a year in the nip on a tropical island isn't exactly what I'd envisaged!"

"Well, we're all glad you decided to support her," Mags responded with a broad smile. "I just know that 'Letters From Blackwell Island' as we've decided to call the feature, is going to be a big hit with our readers!"

And so we, or rather, Mags, Carole and myself, got down to business. First up was signing the contract - I'd already had a lawyer friend of mine look it over for me and she hadn't found anything untoward in the small print, so signing on the dotted line was relatively painless. Arrangements for our accommodation on the island had also been sorted out. A tenancy had been set up, and our landlord and his wife - a couple named Jackson and Marea Mahi'ai - would also act as our sponsors and guides on the island. The magazine would also be picking up the tab for keeping all of our belongings in storage for the duration of our stay on Blackwell, and lastly, they'd issued me with a brand new laptop to write my articles on - a definite step-up technology-wise from my trusty (if somewhat dated) second hand laptop I'd had since my student days.

"And as for you, Patrick," Carole turned to address my other half. "It's only fair that you earn your keep whilst supporting your wonderful wife."

"In what way could I do that?" he queried. "I mean, I already do more than my fair share of housework and stuff."

"Well, we'd need at least a couple of pictures to go along with each article," Carole responded. "Obviously we would have to pixellate the body parts that our readers don't need to see, after all we're not that kind of publication, but we would need to illustrate what daily life is like for the islanders."

"So, Carole and I would like to offer you the position to be our official photographer for 'Letters From Blackwell Island'," Mags beamed.

"But, I'm definitely no professional when it comes to taking photos," Patrick replied. "Holiday snaps I'm fine with, but taking photos for a magazine? Sure I don't think I'd be any good at that."

"Well, we wouldn't be needing anything too artistic, just as long as the pictures adequately capture life on the island," Carole answered his misgivings.

"But, I don't have a proper camera," Patrick countered. "I only ever take pictures on my phone these days."

"No problem," Mags said as she reached down for something on the floor. "We'd already taken that into account."

She placed a box on the table - it contained a brand new Olympus DSLR camera.

"We got you a decent bag to keep it in too," Carole added. "So, how about it? You in?"

Patrick looked at me, as if seeking my approval. I nodded at him in reply.

"I guess," he said with a slight shrug. "But don't blame me if they're unusable and all out of focus."

"I'm sure they won't be," Mags assured him. "You'll pick it up in no time!"

"So, I guess I ought to ask the million dollar question - when do we leave?" I asked keenly.

"Well, obviously you'd both need some time to tie up your affairs here and put into storage all the things that you can't take with you," Carole replied.

"Which of course would include all of your clothes," Mags chortled.

"So shall we say the middle of next month?" Carole ventured. "That ought to give you enough time to get settled there and write up your first article."

"We want your first article to be about your initial thoughts of living on Blackwell Island," Mags added. "After that you'd be free to write about whatever you want, as long as it's engaging enough for our readers."

"I guess that sounds reasonable," I replied. "How about you, Patrick?"

"I suppose that's fine," my husband answered with a slight shrug. "I don't have much in the way of affairs to tie up - I can quit my job tomorrow if I want to! And as for the rest, well that'd all be pretty straightforward too, I suppose."

"Good, well I say let's drink to the success of 'Letters From Blackwell Island'!" Carole announced as she raised her glass.

"Letters From Blackwell Island!" we all responded - although Patrick was noticeably less enthusiastic than Mags and I.

Journeying

Terminal 5 at Heathrow airport is a pretty impressive structure, and it was there that our journey to Blackwell Island began in earnest. The first leg was a long haul flight to Los Angeles, and once we were there we'd stay the night in a hotel before taking our next flight to Honolulu in Hawaii the next day. After that, the final leg would be the weekly three-hour flight from Hawaii to Blackwell Island. All in all the journey would take the best part of three days, but at least we weren't weighed down with much in the way of luggage. I had to smile when the woman at the check-in desk for our flight saw our luggage - she looked at the two small overnight bags that Patrick and I had with us as if to say "is this all there is?"

The magazine were flying us business class, so as soon as we were checked in we both headed to the business class lounge. I could definitely get used to this, I thought to myself as I settled myself into one of the comfy leather armchairs as we awaited our flight to be called. We helped ourselves to coffee and croissants as we waited, my heart fluttering at the thought that there was no going back now.

* * * * * *

The flight to L.A. had been relatively uneventful, save for the occasional bit of turbulence, and we landed on American soil for the first time in our lives. Our stay in the USA was to be a brief one however - we took a taxi to our overnight hotel in Venice Beach a couple of miles from the airport and once we dumped our bags in the room we headed out to explore and to find somewhere to have dinner. The boardwalk there is of course world famous, if a little bit tacky, and was lined with numerous eateries so we were rather spoilt for choice. We decided in the end to 'go native' and found a burger joint - well, just like having proper fish and chips in England, having a proper hamburger and fries is just one of those things you have to do in America!

After devouring a large double cheeseburger with fries each we went for a stroll along the boardwalk as the sun set over the Pacific. We found a little stand that sold churros, something that neither Patrick nor I had ever sampled before. Well, all I can say is that they were utterly divine, and definitely something I'd have again. We returned to our hotel where and went straight to bed - our flight to Honolulu was scheduled for just after 8am, so we would need to get off to an early start in the morning.

* * * * * *

Daniel K. Inouye Airport, Honolulu - our second stop on our journey to Blackwell. Once again we had an overnight stay before our third and final leg of our long journey, the weekly PolynesiAir flight from Honolulu to Blackwell Island, 1,500 miles away. This time our hotel was located in the downtown area and occupied the upper floors of one of the city's tallest buildings. Needless to say, our room had an utterly jaw dropping view!

Just as we had done in L.A. the day before, as soon as we checked in we headed out for a wander and to find somewhere to have dinner. We couldn't find anywhere that appealed to us in the immediate vicinity and we were both tired and very jet lagged, so in the end we returned to the hotel and ate in the restaurant instead.

We may have been tired after two long flights, but we still had enough energy for each other. We made love together as the sun set, illuminating the room with a warm orange glow.

* * * * * *

The following morning we returned to the airport for the weekly flight to Blackwell Island - the only regular commercial flight that connected the remote isle to the outside world, and even then it had only been in operation for two years since the island's new airport had been built. Boarding this flight felt different from the first two - those had just been normal flights with normal customs and immigration checkpoints and baggage reclaim. This flight however would have an altogether different arrivals procedure. Still, we were at least not alone - the Boeing 737 was fully laden with passengers, all of whom were eagerly anticipating their arrival on the island and the moment when they would surrender their clothes for the duration of their long awaited stay.

Patrick looked deep in thought as we took off, I guess he had a lot to think about - I knew that despite our first experience at Apsley Dell and his assurance that he'd support me in my career, he still wasn't sure about how he'd adjust to living without clothes for the next twelve months. Of course I said to him that I shared his anxiety too, but that we were in it together for the long haul, and that I needed him to be strong for me, just as he needed me to be strong for him.

After around three hours in the air, the stewardess announced that we were making our final approach to the island, and that if we looked out of the window we'd be able to see our destination below.

In only a matter of minutes we'd be coming in to land.

Coming up in Part Two, Allie and Patrick arrive on Blackwell Island and meet their sponsors, and get their first introduction to life on the naturist paradise -- including some mysterious locales known as 'red zones'.

Watch this space!