Hauntological Weirdo Thing

 I was trying to work out the first naked woman I ever saw. It's for a thing. A hauntological, weirdo thing about the 70's I might be writing, but might just as easily abandon. 

There are two contenders. There was a showing of The Wicker Man on television in the London region (it's plausible that we might have received London programming in Portslade, though Southern was our local channel. We certainly enjoyed London Weekend Television, though that might have been a national phenomenon). The date was 16/03/79, nine days before my eighth birthday. What a curious seven year old boy! The reason I recall this - quite apart from Linda Hayden's naked body - was that my friend, Derren Lewis, had also seen it, and I recall doing an impression of Angel Blake unveiling before Anthony Ainsley's compromised curate, to the theme tune of The Marti Caine Show, which made Derren laugh a lot. Marti would come out and do a twirl, showcasing her frock of the week. Linda did something similar, minus the frock. 

There are two problems with this memory. Firstly, The Wicker Man didn't start until 11 at night. We had one, rented, set, in the living room. My mother, even then, was a night owl, and not especially keen on horror films, especially one where smartarse pagans trick and martyr a Christian, even if he was a stuck up protestant. How on earth could I have seen the film? Secondly, I've just watched the first episode of The Marti Caine Show. It was broadcast on the 8th January 1979, so the dates work. But the tune in my head, where I substituted the words "Marti Caine" for "Angel Blake", doesn't appear in either the opening or closing credits. 

Hmm. 

It doesn't matter, anyway. Because Linda Hayden is not the first naked woman I ever saw. 

The first naked woman I ever saw, was while I was having dinner with my family. We didn't always have the TV on during dinner, but on this occasion we did. It would have been BBC2, straight after Harold Lloyd, or something, and before proper telly started at seven on BBC1. The programme was James Burke's Connections, the sort of globe-trotting popular science show the BBC excelled at in the 70's. James was a matey, balding chap, with heavily-framed glasses and a safari suit, and he put together patterns and explained science brilliantly, using historical examples and colourful back-drops. I liked him. As a small boy, all my heroes were funny uncle types on the telly, a succession of sit-com stalwarts in the throes of nervous breakdowns. And Barbara Good. I liked Barbara Good, too. I wasn't sure why, but I definitely liked Barbara Good. 

It was 31st October 1978. Halloween, though Halloween wasn't as much of a thing in those days. I was still seven. It was the third episode of the series, called Distant Voices. The episode touched on, in a typically freewheeling way: telecommunications, The Battle of Hastings, the idea of money, wet mineshafts, Galileo and the development of radio. As usual, Burke is all over the globe, but on a section about Medieval prosperity, the action shifts to a recreation of a Medieval German town, like Hamlin with fewer rats and more children. There's an Oktoberfest vibe: steins are charged with frothy ale, a bloke is knocked out with a small hammer so a dentist can extract a tooth, lots of raucous laughter, gappy teeth and flushed jowls, plaits and mob caps, and right in the middle of this - in the middle of my dinner, the mince slipping from my open mouth - a naked girl is having a bath in what looks like a horse trough in the town square. 

Here she is. Just her face, obviously. 

And this anonymous German girl, recreating a Medieval Mittel European splash about, was the first naked woman I ever saw. 

Thank you for your service.