Not a failure

I had two classes on this date.  One at The Fiddler's Elbow and one at The Standard.  And after the previous week's disaster, I was very concerned about both of them.

During the week, I made repeated visits to The Fiddler's Elbow to check on the progress of their renovations, and to make sure that they were definitely going to be ready in time for the class.  If it had been even remotely possible, I would have found a different venue, but there was nothing available.  On my final visit, I spoke to one of the management staff, who assured me that everything would be ready.

On the day, I arranged for Qba to be the model and Ayusha to be the tutor at The Fiddler's Elbow, while I went to The Standard.  I got my room ready, sat in a corner and started to quietly stress about everything that could go wrong.  Ultimately, I only really relaxed when my girls turned up.  I couldn't call Ayusha, because I didn't want to interrupt her class, but when she didn't call me to tell me about anything going wrong, I figured they must be going right.

This wasn't my best class ever, but none of it went particularly wrong this time - at least, there was no reason for anyone to register any kind of a complaint.  The sad thing was that it wasn't really all that much of a success, either.  It felt like one of those classes that occasionally are a bit misjudged - where the person who booked it didn't really consider that it might not be to the tastes of her friends.  This has happened maybe twice before (which isn't bad, considering I've been doing these classes for four years now) and on each previous occasion, I've managed to get everybody to enjoy themselves after a while. But not this time.

Even the point where I asked for two volunteers was met with complete resistance; something that has never happened before.  In fact, it seemed to provoke a bit of an argument among the girls, about who it was that would have the burden of volunteering.  Normally there's a bit of banter and some mild trepidation going on while they work out what they're volunteering for, which is all part of the humour. But this time the request was treated like an actual ordeal, so I let it go and moved on to the next challenge instead.

(The good thing was that while I was responding to the difficulties of this class, I realised that I was still maintaining a sense of humour and I was still handling every well - and I realised that I'd done the same thing the week before.  I realised that during that terrible class, I'd actually done a lot of things right and that I'd been very hard on myself since then.  I should have been congratulating myself on being able to deal with a very challenging situation and salvaging something from it, rather than condemning myself for not being able to make it perfect.)

I persevered with the girls in this class and managed to make it work.  A genuinely frustrating moment that I had to deal with was watching one of the girls - in what I can only assume was some sort of passive aggressive protest - steadily work her way through an entire sketchpad, use it up, demand a fresh one and do the same thing all over again.  She doodled something onto every single page of both pads and all I could do was observe this and wonder how to handle it when she demanded a third.  I wasn't sure if I should take a stance and simply refuse to hand another one over.  Ultimately, I did give her a third one, but told her there weren't any others.  I always carry a couple of spares, and there were more available, but I kept them hidden.

It wasn't the most enjoyable experience I've had with the business, but at least it wasn't a failure.  Probably the best thing I can say about this class.

Oh - and Qba and Ayusha had a fun class with fun girls at The Fiddler's Elbow.

A disastrous class

Most of my classes are a lot of fun.  Some are more fun than others, though usually there's something to recommend them.  So far, I've never yet had an absolute disaster, though - until this one.

It was so bad that I resisted writing about it for a long time.  Partly because I just couldn't face it, but also because I didn't want to draw attention to how horribly it could go wrong.  But it's only fair to describe the poor ones as well as the good ones.

So... The owners of the Fiddler's Elbow - a location I've used numerous times in the past - sold up without bothering to tell anyone.  Including me.  Despite the fact that I've booked and paid for a room for a class of 21 people.  The biggest class of the entire year.

I can't accurately convey the panic and rage I felt when I realised what had happened.  Thankfully, I always try to set the classes up a couple of hours before they're due to start, so I had at least given myself time to respond.  But I was facing a venue that was completely shut down and had a sign on the front door, saying "Closed for refurbishment".  There was also a handwritten note with someone's 'phone number on it, though.  So I called it and got the new owner.

Apparently I wasn't the only person that the previous owners had simply abandoned, so the new guy - Dean - had already had to deal with some irate clientele.  But by the time I got through to him, I was already inside the building and checking out the rooms that I'd used in the past.  The upper room was still being decorated, but the basement was reasonably clear.  By this stage, I was being very polite, but very firm - I told Dean that I was taking the basement and not offering him the option to deny it to me.

I called up the girl who had booked me, explained the situation - as succinctly as possible - and assured her that I would still be able to provide a venue and a class, but also explained that I might be a little behind schedule.  I was cringing by this point, because I also had to tell her that there would be no bar service, so they would have to bring their own drinks.  And I had to tell her that she would need to enter a venue that was prominently advertising that it was "Closed for refurbishment".  It was the most unprofessional, shoddy service I've ever had to offer anyone and I was hating every minute of it.

After I hung up, I still had to find 21 chairs - and the whole place had, apparently, been cleaned out of all furniture.  So I started raiding the guest rooms, claiming chairs from them and carrying them down four flights of stairs, into the basement room.  I found another dozen chairs in a cupboard and improvised the remainder out of a windowsill and a chest that I covered up with a fur blanket.

And finally - actually ahead of schedule - I was able to call the girl up and tell her that the room was ready (or as ready as it was ever going to get) for everybody to come round.

The girls arrived, I apologised for everything and invited them all into their room.  And as compensation, I offered to disregard the usual time limit and run the class for as long as everyone was having fun.  And then, in the midst of all this, one of the decorators casually strolled into the room, looking for a stepladder and disrupting everything.  Since I'd spoken to him just twenty minutes earlier and already explained that the room was off limits, it was really starting to feel like nothing could possibly go right, by this point.

By then, I was on edge and starting to make stupid mistakes.  This was even worse, because these couldn't be blamed on other people - they were entirely my fault.  I botched the introduction to the class and entered the room while drinks were still being poured, so there was an awkward few moments before I was able to set up the first pose and subsequent drawing challenges.  A couple of times, I was close to panic and the usual humour didn't flow as smoothly as it usually did.  Some of the girls still appeared to be really enjoying themselves and there were the usual laughs at my jokes or my comments about the pictures, but there were others who were clearly not amused and the stony faces were starting to take a serious toll on my self-confidence as well.

Eventually the class wrapped up and some of the girls collected their things and left without hesitation.  I handed some business cards to one of them who assured me that she'd give them to her friends when she caught up with everybody, but I found them on the bar a few minutes later.

A few days later, I got an email from the agency the girls had booked me through.  They had written an absolutely scathing letter of complaint about the class - describing it as "cringe-worthy" and picking apart every single detail.  Some of the elements that came under fire were elements that had worked - repeatedly - with previous classes, but in the context of this one they were apparently embarrassing and clumsy.  Absolutely nothing escaped their scrutiny and I was left squirming all over again.  I called the agency, described how things had gone, agreed that a huge chunk of the complaint was completely valid (but still argued that some of it was unfair) and finally agreed that the girls were entitled to a full refund.

In hindsight, I should have probably argued with that decision and offered to refund half the money.  While I was on the 'phone and discussing the complaint, I was painfully aware of all the things that had gone wrong.  But then, a week later, I did another class for a different agency and while it was going on, I remembered all the things that I had done right - and there were plenty of those.  I also remembered all the girls who seemed to have been really enjoying themselves and who had been participating with complete enthusiasm.

And I remembered all the sketchpads that had been used up.  All the pages that were taken away at the end of that class.  21 girls will use up a lot of paper - and even more was used with the extra time that I had given them in an attempt to make them happier about the shoddy beginning to the class.  All in all, it was demoralising and heartbreaking.  And it was booked through the very agency that gives me about 60% of all the business I get, so I had to worry about the potential for damaged relations with them as well.

So... undeniably a disastrous class.

Improvisation and flexibility

There were a lot of things that could have gone wrong with this weekend - and a few that nearly did go wrong.  But, luckily, it all ultimately went well.  Mainly because I was able to improvise, change plans and anticipate the dangers.

I had one class in Dundee and another in Aviemore.  The Aviemore one had a venue all arranged, so that was going to be easy.  The Dundee one, however, had nothing.  I made a lot of trips to Dundee, and even stayed there overnight once or twice, but still... despite walking through street after street after street, despite walking into every pub and cafe and nightclub I could find, nothing was turning up.  I had a class, but no venue.

A couple of years ago, I held a class in Drouthy Neebors, but that venue was no longer available.  It had been renamed and was under new management - now it's simply called Drouthies.  It was the very first place I approached and the very first disappointment.

I tried to turn it down, but the agency weren't having that.  They simply threatened to give the contract to someone else - and presumably, they would have continued to give that person all subsequent contracts.

Eventually, I found a place called The West Port Bar and all suddenly seemed to be sunshine and rainbows once more.  Briefly.  But by then, I had some serious doubts about the model - a guy called David - I had lined up for the job.  He was not answering texts or emails.  I asked him to provide bank details, which he did - in the most perfunctory possible text.  I no longer had confidence in him.

This led to a fresh dilemma.  Could I rely on him to turn up for the job?  I had offered him twice the going rate, in order to cover his petrol costs - surely that would be enough motivation.  I wasn't convinced.

I recruited a new model as a backup option - a guy from New Zealand called Barney.  But that caused fresh complications.  Should I fire David?  I wasn't sure.  So far, he had been hard to get hold of, but hadn't really given me enough cause.  It was borderline and that was making me indecisive.  So should I send Barney... just in case David didn't turn up?  What if both models turned up?  Should I pay both but only employ one?

And then there was a sudden moment of inspiration - I flipped the problem round.  Send Barney to Aviemore to cover that class instead.  Go to Dundee, personally.  Then, if David didn't turn up, I could handle it personally.

This had the added benefit of me being able to personally speak to a very disgruntled client.  The girl who had booked me for the Dundee class was not happy with the service she had received from the agency.  So if I was there to talk to her myself, I could apologise on their behalf and make sure she received personal attention from me, specifically.  That might sound egotistical, but I have a decent bit of experience with these events, have worked out a good routine and have learned how to be very flexible.  I was confident that I could provide a good show.

So I spent the rest of the week coaching Barney, making sure he was cool with what was expected - all that stuff.  I covered the bus timetables with him.  I told him to set an alarm on his 'phone in case he missed his stop and told him that even if he did, he could still get off at Inverness instead and catch the first bus back to Aviemore from there.  I made sure he had the contact details of the girl in Aviemore and that she had his.  I made sure the he had a fresh and unused supply of sketchpads and two brand new boxes of charcoal.  I spent the week going through every possible scenario and making sure I had as many potential problems covered as I could possibly anticipate.  And I still quietly stressed.

Onn Saturday morning, I got up and went with Barney to the station, put him on a bus to Aviemore and caught the next bus to Dundee.

Now, since my class started before his...
and since Dundee is a lot closer to Edinburgh than Aviemore...
and since I made sure he was scheduled to get into town a good 90 minutes before his class started...
... all of this meant that I arrived in Dundee a good four hours early.  But it was worth it, because I knew that he was definitely on his way.  It's clear that I was becoming a little paranoid by this stage.

I dropped off the kit at the West Port Bar, then wandered into Dundee - not the most pleasant of Scottish cities - so that I could find a coffee shop to relax in for a couple of hours.  Then I went back to the bar to set up, then sit back, relax and wait for the various people to turn up.  Predictably - no sign of David.  So when the girls arrived, I knew that I was the model for their class after all.

But it really was a great class.  As usual, when it all started, all the stresses and background bits of panic just melted away.  I knew what I was doing and I was enjoying myself.  And it helped a lot, that I had one of the most enthusiastic and pleased brides I'd had in a long time - this was no error in judgement made by her friends.  She loved the idea.  I introduced the concept as a straightforward art class, then told everybody that I was going to find the first prop to draw - a Dalek.  I disappeared behind a convenient screen and started stripping off.  Occasionally I called out that I'd seen the Dalek and was trying to catch it - a monumentally cheesy concept, but still fun.  In my head, at least.  Then, when I was finally naked, I stepped out from behind the screen, holding the Dalek and was greeted by a delighted bride.

For some reason - I can't remember why - this pose had me holding the Dalek at crotch height while the girls drew me.  So the Dalek became a bit of a euphemism for the rest of that class.  It's fun the way every class goes a bit different, because I'm responding to so many different things.  The environment, the attitudes of the girls, the different suggestions for the poses.  Even when I'm not asking for volunteers and encouraging a bit of creativity, there's still a lot of flexibility involved.

As usual, I asked for permission to take pictures of the class.  I was granted it, but the girls told me they wanted to be able to vet them before I used them.  Fair enough... I figured we'd go through them all at the end of the class, but somehow we forgot to do that.  So... at this point... no pictures for this event.  Later, I might be able to do the vetting with someone, but at the moment I'll respect their privacy and won't post any.

It's a pity, because there are a couple of good ones in there.  There was one where - during the Make-A-Giant-Man pose - one of the girls drew a really cool arm that got singled out for special attention.  I posed with her, holding the arm over my own.  In a different pose, one of the girls drew my torso - and when she held it up for inspection, I thought it looked pretty cool because it seemed to measure up to her own torso pretty well.  I got her to hold it up in front of the other girls, to demonstrate that.

Throughout the class, I was entertained a lot by the serving staff coming and going in the background.  The lower part of the venue was a restaurant as well as a bar and the staff had to pass our class as they went to and from the kitchens.  They never seemed to look in our direction, so I couldn't help wondering if they were rigidly looking ahead every time they went by.  Like the militant eye contact the first-timers make when they visit a nudist colony - or so I hear.

When the class was finished, I drew aside the girl who had booked me and told her I had been aware of the difficulties she had experienced with the agency.  I tried to apologise and tell her I hoped that she had enjoyed the class, despite all of that.  I think that, in the end, she had fun.  Whether it was worth the hassles, is a different story, but I hope so.  It certainly seemed like all the other girls enjoyed themselves a lot, though.  And the feedback book was particularly popular.  There were a lot of comments added to it.

When the class was done, I tried calling David on both of the 'phone numbers he had given me.  One had a disconnected tone and the other had a recorded message informing that the number had not been recognised.  I sent him an email, but received no response.  I have competitors these days, and it would be an underhand - but very realistic - tactic if one of them was to accept a modelling job, but not turn up.  That could seriously damage my reputation and would cost me a lot of money.  I've got no real evidence that this was David's motivation, but it definitely pays to keep that sort of thing in mind and have contingency plans available.

I got back into Edinburgh before Barney.  I contacted the girls from Aviemore and they seemed to be very happy with the way their class had gone.  Later, when I spoke to Barney, I discovered that he had left all the sketchpads and charcoal with that group - because he thought that they were allowed to keep them.  They were brand new sketchpads - never been used.  Thirteen of them gone for ever.  I have to admit, that took the shine off the weekend a bit.

But still... two classes that had the potential to be absolutely disastrous had - in the end - gone very, very well.  Ultimately, there was very little to complain about.

Applicants

Sometimes this business can be a bit of a trial. Like those occasions, where I need to recruit new staff for the jobs. I recently posted a couple of ads in different places for people to cover for me. I want younger, fitter models to do the jobs wherever possible. I can still do them myself, but I know that there are far better looking guys than me out there.

Right now, I'm sitting in a  coffee shop in Glasgow, waiting for a prospective model to turn up.  So far, he's about five minutes late.  Not too bad, but a bit frustrating, since he suggested this particular place, so he clearly knows how to find it.

Anyway, someone recently got in touch. He lives in Fife and he's called Sid. He 'phones me up and almost immediately there were alarm bells ringing. I know I've made the CFNM reference frequently, when I describe the business, but that's like a sort of shorthand - it lets people know what kind of thing to anticipate, if they're familiar with the initials. It's also a bit of a warning, because when a male applicant makes a reference to CFNM in the opening lines of the 'phone call, I can't help wondering whether if it's just an opportunity to indulge their kinks. It's cool if there's an element of that, so long as there's a sense of perspective involved. The job is about entertaining the clients, primarily, and it wouldn't take much - just one guy who's too keen on flaunting his "charms" - to give the business a very unsavoury reputation.

I asked Sid how old he was. Mid forties. Which means he's older than me and I'm trying to recruit models who are specifically younger than me. So I start to politely turn him down, but before I can even get halfway through the sentence, before he's interrupting and protesting that he looks much younger. He is, apparently, frequently told that he can pass for early thirties.

So I relented. It couldn't hurt to at least take at some pictures and then decide if it was worth meeting him to verify that the pictures were an accurate representation and to see if my initial impression had been a bit harsh. The pictures arrived very quickly, with a message.

Hi there, we spoke earlier today about myself doing modelling work, please find attached some pictures of myself as requested. I look forward to talking to you soon and starting some work very soon also.

I prefer honesty and told you my true age but everyone says I only look 30 and I workout everyday and have a great physique too as I train to look good naked.

Many Thanks

In the pictures, I saw someone who was a bit overweight, looked a bit rough and could easily pass for someone in his mid forties, but if you looked with a very charitable eye, you might actually concede that late forties would be more accurate. Now, these events aren't proper art classes, where anyone - regardless of age and appearance - can be a model. They're parties and hen nights and social events, where the drawing is a bit of a laugh and the girls want to see someone young and good looking. I know that's common knowledge, but it's worth repeating.

So I sent Sid a message - diplomatically phrased.

Hello, Sid

Thanks for your email, but I don't think you're going to be suitable for our art classes. I'm not sure how to be diplomatic about it. We really need people who have a very specific look and you don't fit our requirements.

Thanks for getting in touch.

Graham

I don't want to say "you're old, you're fat, you look a bit creepy, you sound a bit sleazy and you're giving off very bad vibes," because I'm reliably informed that that's the sort of thing that can offend people. So I figured I'd keep it vague and non-specific. Generally just waffle the kind of shite that means nothing at all, but which can't be argued with. I thought that would be the end of it.

But there was another response...

Thanks for the reply Graham, I do no t mind straight talk and will not be offended and also wanted to let you know that in haste and to get pics to you quickly I downloaded my pics from my facebook and thus they appear as they do, little show offy as they are all from parties or nights out etc, I really do feel a face to face meet would let you see the real me and I also was more interested in the cfnm parties and naked butler service etc even if you still feel I am not suitable for the art classes.

But may I ask what you meant by specific look? I have done naked art posing before in local colleges etc, so I know I can do this work and I am also not shy of the raunchier stuff like parties/events and naked guy services if you are looking to expand your business.

Would love a face to face meeting or even a quick chat on the phone and you can ask me any questions if you have doubts in your mind.

Sid

By this point I'm getting mildly irritated. I'd already tried to brush him off, then I'd relented and let him send me pictures and I'd politely declined him, but he's starting to chip away at the reasons I'd given him. I really didn't want to be rude. But I couldn't figure out a way to answer him without either continuing to be vague (and possibly keeping the dialogue open if he still wanted specific answers) or just being completely blunt. I should have gone with bluntness. But instead, I chose to just not respond, in hopes that he'd go away. Yeah, a bit of a cowardly move, perhaps, but I thought it would work.

I also didn't like the reference to "raunchier stuff".  That really felt like he had misinterpreted the entire concept of my events, even though I'd gone to great pains to point out that they're a bit cheeky, but also very restrained.  The girls who hire me are generally the kind of girls who want to have a bit of a laugh, enjoy a bit off innuendo and maintain a sense of decorum.

Anyway, later, I posted more ads on other websites and got a bit of an enigmatic response from someone.

Still interested.

And there was a smiley face. Just to keep it all nice and friendly, I suppose.   I didn't recognise the name. But this particular site has profiles, so I looked up the smiley face guy, to see his profile, before I responded. There weren't any pictures of him, but I was curious. I must have interacted with him once before. Now, since I hadn't gone onto that site in some months, it sort of made sense to me that he must have made an application some months ago. It didn't occur to me that I might have spoken to him more recently, via an entirely different site.

So I replied to him.

Thanks for getting in touch.

I can't remember if we've spoken before, but you wrote "still interested" in response to my ad, which kind of suggests that you applied to be a model already. I'm not sure what became of that, but I've had a pretty chaotic time with the business. I'm starting to get on top of it now, though, so perhaps it's time for a meeting.

I have a job coming up in Dundee, soon. I may have already recruited a model for that one, though. It all depends on whether he accepts it.

Perhaps I could come up to Fife sometime soon to meet you?

I knew he was from Fife, because I had seen that in his profile. And yes, in hindsight, that was a bit of a warning sign. I really should have taken note of the location, but I wasn't paying attention to it. Anyway, his response - about an hour later...

Yes we spoke a while back, it's Sid if you remember me and I would love a meeting. Sounds like we should get together real soon.

And he adds another smiley face. But that's when I figured it out. Fucking Sid. There aren't a LOT of Sids out there. The words "a while back" are pretty misleading too. Like even at this stage, where he's letting me know who he really is, he's trying to suggest we spoke weeks or months ago, rather than just a few days back.   Anyway, it's possible that there are two Sids in Fife who both want to work for me as a nude model, so I figured I'd better be sure. I wrote back...

Am I talking to Sid ******?

The asterisks are his surname. Got to protect the identity of the guilty, I suppose. His response was brief.

Yeah.

By now, I'm really starting to get irritated.

I really don't know how to make this any clearer. It doesn't matter how interested you are; you're just not what I need for these classes. I've tried being polite, but I'm running out of diplomatic responses.

And the fucker still won't give up. He still has a response And he still has a protest some sort of misguided idea that if he can only persuade me to meet him or see the inner personality or something, then I might overlook the age and the fat and the lingering stench of desperation.

But you haven't been clear, and what look is required for nude work? You have not even met me yet.

And even as I was writing this posting, there was one final (I hope it's final) update. Yet another message from Sid just arrived.

Don't sweat it dude, you obviously don't like me as I know I can do the work. Maybe I should look at setting up my own company too.

So... maybe that's it finished. Unless he puts me out of business. That's always possible.

Decorum

I was very nervous about this class, in the couple of weeks running up to it.  It was a private residence, somewhere along Loch Lomond, and I didn't know exactly where.  I had the address and I found out the route, but I still wasn't sure about the precise location.  And none of the routefinder apps I used seemed able to tell me about any buses that went that way.

Down to the old fashioned approach.  I asked at the bus station, in person, where I found out that the bus to Oban went right past it.  It was between Luss and Tarbet, which was handy, too - always great to find out the local towns.  Then it can be as simple as go to the nearest town, settle down in a convenient hotel or restaurant, have a couple of coffees and kill some time, then walk to the venue or catch a taxi - depending on how close it is

That plan usually works.  Occasionally, it fails pretty badly.  Like the first class of this year, when I caught the bus to Aberargie, arrived at the local hotel and discovered it had closed down and I was trapped wandering about the local countryside in a persistent, miserable drizzle.

A few days before the day of the class, a friend and I drove out along Loch Lomond and we checked the area out.  I wanted to see the house itself, but we drove past it and I spotted a handy layby.  The perfect stopping place for the Oban bus, if the driver was feeling accommodating - and they usually are, if the stopping place is a safe one.  We carried on into Tarbet, where hotel was very convenient - and open for business, so I had that covered if the weather was nasty or the bus driver wasn't accommodating or the road wasn't safe.  Everything was cool.

A quick check of the bus schedules reassured me that if I left Edinburgh at 9AM, I'd get there a good two hours before the class was scheduled to start.  A comfortable margin for any potential disrupted schedules.  And so I was on my way.

And it all went very smoothly.  Even better than planned, in fact.  The girl who had booked me called me up while I was en route and offered to drive into Tarbet to pick me up.  So all I had to do was hang around the car park and wait.  And when she found out I was going to be arriving early, she was very happy to pick me up early.  She also told me that everyone knew what was going to be happening, so there was no need for subterfuge - no sneaking in the back door for this class.

There were a couple of fluctuations in the schedule after that, that I wasn't entirely clear about.  For a while, I thought I was being invited in to chill out until the class was due to start.  I said that if the schedule wasn't set in stone then I would be happy to start earlier than planned.  Then I found out that one of the girls wasn't due to arrive until later, so an early start would mean she was excluded.  Then, somehow, we ended up starting early anyway.  I got a little confused at that point, and eventually just figured that the girls had a clearer idea of what they wanted and the schedule they wanted to keep to, so I decided that I would fit in with their plan as best as I could.  I still felt bad for the late girl, though.

When we arrived at the house, I was shown to the room where the class would be held.  It was beautiful and only needed a couple of minor furniture adjustments to make it perfect for the class.  Before I got it ready, I took out the Mac and set up the slideshow videos I'd created, then took the Mac through to the kitchen where the girls were relaxing before the class started.  I told them that if they wanted, they could get a sneak preview of the event, then left the Mac with them and went back to finish getting the room ready.  I could hear the music starting up and shortly after that, I could hear them starting to laugh, so it seemed to go down well.

They were all dressed for the part - with berets and little twirly moustaches drawn onto their faces.  It looked pretty cool and it reminded me of a different class I held in Glasgow one time, where the girls had done something similar.

The pictures were great.  One of my favourites was a Superman picture, which was improvised because the pose changed.  I had started out with my arms in the air, but I pointed out that it would have to be a quick drawing, because I wouldn't be able to maintain that pose for long - so someone suggested I change the pose.  One of the girls had started drawing my arms in the original pose, but she changed them to a cape instead.

Another favourite was from a challenge I had been planning to introduce for some time, but had always forgotten about during the classes.  I asked how many right-handed girls there were, then told them to pick out a chunky bit of charcoal and draw with their left hands instead.  I need to do that challenge again, because it seemed to go down well.  One of the girls came out with a very shaky-looking picture, that I really liked.  Another favourite had me looking a bit like Gok Wan - although I didn't notice the similarity until a friend (the same one who went along Loch Lomond with me last week) pointed it out. I was gutted, because I like commenting on those similarities when I see them, during the classes.

Towards the end of the class, the late girl turned up.  I think she had a couple of children with her, so it might have been that she wasn't able to attend the class because of that.  She came into the room, though, and posed with me for a picture so she was at least able to participate a little bit.

Eventually, I wound up the class and was driven back to Tarbet.  And a couple of days later, I got in touch with my friend (yes, the same one again) and asked about her night out.  She'd been to a Butlers in the buff event and I was very curious about it.  Much, much rowdier than my classes.  And a lot more depravity.

I have decorum.

Ayusha's first class

Waiting at The Fiddler's Elbow in Edinburgh, on a Saturday afternoon... and starting to worry.  It's almost 5PM and the girls haven't turned up yet.  I start going through all my notes.  Right time?  Right place?  Right city..?  It's definitely Edinburgh and not Glasgow?  But of course, as far as I know, there isn't a Fiddler's Elbow in Glasgow.  And even if there was, I wouldn't have booked a class into a place that I didn't know existed.  So, when I checked I was in the right place, that had to mean I was in the right city.

The problem is, I always start to worry whether I've got something wrong.  It's my usual sense of mild panic going on... all those little stresses before a class starts.  But the reason was completely simple.  The girls were just running late.

At one point, I was standing by the window and looking down into the street below.  I could see a girl in a pink t-shirt with one of those weird plastic antennae things on her head and she was looking irritated.  She was on a mobile phone and talking to someone.  It didn't take a stretch of the imagination to wonder if she was one of my party... perhaps calling her friends to find out where they were.  Another girl dressed in a similar outfit came up and they seemed to exchange angry words for a minute or two.  I hoped it wasn't them.  I didn't want the girls to come in with an angry attitude.

It wasn't them, though.  When they finally got here, they weren't in the typical hen night "uniform" like the girls I'd been watching from the window.  The girls sometimes wear matching outfits in my classes, but not always.  And there's usually a sense of irony going on, when they do.  More of a sense of humour.

This was Ayusha's first time as a tutor.  She's attended classes before, but on those other occasions, she was there as more of an observer.  A sort of "trainee" tutor.  It was when I hired Qba as the model a couple of times, last year.  She was his girlfriend.  Even back then, I'd had it in mind that she could possibly be a tutor at some point.  But then she and Qba went travelling in India for a few months.  I was sad to see them go, because I liked them both and I liked working with them.

Ultimately Qba stayed in India, but Ayusha came back.  It's still a shame, because Qba was a great alternative model and I'd have been happy to offer him a lot more work.  But it sounds like he's having too good a time in India.

So I spent some time talking with Ayusha and then - when we heard the girls arriving - I got stripped and ready for them.  Since it was her first time presenting a class, I figured I'd go with the same style of start that I used in the last two classes, which meant I could talk her through a basic kind of intro.  I showed her the Dalek and told her to just settle everyone, go through the "hellos", pretend that she'd lost the Dalek... and that would be my cue to enter.  Then I had to briefly tell her what the Dalek actually was, because she's from Finland and has never heard of them before.

When the girls came in, they were sadly more than half an hour late.  And the really frustrating thing was that I couldn't even offer them some extra time at the end, because the venue was booked for a birthday party that evening.  So we went through three poses and tried to make sure that there was a good balancing act going on.  I didn't want them to feel rushed, but I still wanted to make sure there was time to do at least a couple of routines.  There was the first basic pose, then for the second challenge I moved straight on to calling for the two volunteers - one to be the other model and the other to be the co-ordinator, who would set the pose up.  That's one I normally save until about halfway through the class and it's also one where I normally switch the roles of the volunteers round so the model can get a bit of revenge on the co-ordinator.

And finally - the regular favourite - we went for the Make-A-Giant-Man pose.  Each girl chose a body part at random, drew it and then we put the pages down onto the floor to see what we had.  There were three torsos, four penises and no heads.  Two nipples, though.  One of which looked really cool.  And a really nicely drawn foot, which was amusing to me, because my feet are definitely not my best feature.

We had time after that for some group photographs which Ayusha took.  And then I gave the girls some chalks and my feedback book and invited them to write in it while they finished their drinks downstairs and while Ayusha and I cleaned up after ourselves.  They were a fun group of girls and I really wish I'd been able to take longer... give them the usual amount of time and relax into the class.  I hope they enjoyed themselves, even despite that, though.  It was still fun.  Just a bit short.

Converts

I think I might have inspired a couple of artists to take up naturism, today.  During one of the poses, two of them were talking - and if I interpreted the snippets of overheard conversation properly - they were discussing whether or not to start hanging around naked at home.  I think they shared a flat in London.

Today's art class was at The Standard in Edinburgh - no rushed last-minute trips to Inverness this weekend.  It was relaxed, and fun and I settled into it with no problems at all.  Still a lot of laughs, but very easy.

The girls all arrived perfectly on time and I went through a similar routine to my last Edinburgh class.  I had Edith to help out, but I introduced myself as before, then stepped out of the room "in search of props" as before and walked back in, naked "as before".  The really cool thing about doing it this way is the impact - even if the girls have seen right through the charade and are already anticipating the nudity.  I'm not sure why it's so much fun to be walking about, pretending to be oblivious to my own nudity.  It could be that it's the performance of it.  Either way, it's a great start to the class.  The winner of the first challenge was a great drawing - one that had what looked like a stylised pubic hair depiction, coupled with a "censored" warning.

There were lots of questions about how often I got naked, whether I got naked at home, whether I'd ever been naked publicly, whether I'd call myself a naturist, whether I'd answer my front door naked - stuff like that.  The only difficult question was the naturist one.  I've never really been sure if the term specifically applies to me.  Yes, I like to be naked... but there's an element of exhibitionism and showing off that I think the true naturists disapprove of.  Ultimately, it's just another label and I've never liked labels.

Even when I asked for volunteers, the two girls who were "pressed" into the job seemed to briefly debate whether the other model should be naked as well.  This generally happens anyway - it's a natural bit of banter and not taken too seriously.  But every so often, it seems that the girls actually consider it for a moment.

I dug out the props for that pose.  I keep them in a sort of canvas bag, so it's kind of fun to rummage around inside it and dig them out.  The Dalek wad discarded pretty quickly, this time.  I don't think anyone wanted to have to draw it, so it was rejected.  It's a shame... Scottish Daleks are, after all, notoriously egotistical and like to participate in life drawing classes.

 

 

 

The wrist cuffs were used in two poses.  In one, I wore them on my own, and in the other pose, I was cuffed to the other model.  (That made me think of a film I watched recently.  It was called You instead and it was about two people - musicians who had a personality clash - were handcuffed together at T In The Park.  Sounds like a dire romantic comedy, but in fact it was a really cool indie film with great music.)  The blindfold was also used a couple of times as well.

My classes are often a bit of an ice breaker for these weekends.  The girls meet each other and have a bit of a laugh.  Often, in the larger groups, there are a lot of girls who haven't met each other before, so they're also a chance to interact for the first time.  This weekend, though, it was a small group and I think everybody already knew each other.  That's not unusual, but the interesting thing was that they'd already had a more lively event.  They'd already been to see Dreamboys.  I thought it was funny that they'd been to a live strip show, then gone to something more low key, less raucous and - I think it's fair to say - more intimate.  I think that it usually happens the other way round.  Apparently, they were entertained as much by the antics of the girls in the audience, as they were by the show.  One of them said something about some girls having to be "prised off' the dancers.

Nobody ever needs to be prised off me.  Which definitely means I'm safer in my job than male strippers are in theirs.  And, of course, we all want to be safe at work.  I shouldn't complain, though.  After all, nothing's perfect - and the job's still a lot of fun.