I have been looking forward to my afternoon in the deckchair all week, and yesterday, I finally made it. A quick walk for the boys (they hate this heat, preferring the snow. I put this down to the fact that as a breed, they hale from Germany ) and it was bikini on (yes, I know I'm 54 and a half, but I was alone, and therefore no apologies were required), sun cream applied to all the bits I could reach and I stretched out on the perfectly positioned deckchair, and let out a big sigh. A snooze was planned for half an hour or so, and I started drifting off as the happy birdies sang around me.
My peace lasted approximately four minutes. The dogs, completely incapable of being parted from my side for longer than a nanosecond, had slid under my deckchair. A small fight was ensuing underneath as each of them fought for position in the 14" square of available space. After some calm pleading ('Will you two pack it in before I completely lose my temper!') which then evolved into some rather ripe language, a trip to the kitchen and two dog chews, I settled back down in my deckchair with a sigh.
As I have got older, I've become more aware of the damage too much sun can do to you. I have very fond memories of the husband and I having a weekend away in West Wittering, where we laid out on the beach like a couple of stuck pigs for an afternoon. Although it was hot, there was no sun whatsoever, so we didn't need sun cream.
Or so we thought.
The husband suffered from heat stroke for forty eight hours. This coincided with the drive home which was interrupted seven times for unscheduled comfort breaks. I didn't have heat stroke, but did resemble a over ripe split tomato. In was so bad that the B&B owner asked me if I'd stand outside in the evening as it meant that he could save some money on the patio heaters. Oh, how we laughed. Well we would have done if my skin could move and the husband could get his head out of a bucket for more than fifteen minutes.
Anyway, as I was saying, I now apply layer after layer of the factor whatever to avoid that ever happening again, and having reapplied after sorting the dogs out, I had settled back into my chair.
And then the husband came home. He wanted to mow the lawn (I can't complain as I had made the request yesterday morning) so with safety helmet, goggles, shorts and work boots, he started with the strimmer, moved onto the mower, and finished off by vacuuming the patio.
It was at that point I gave up, and opened the Prosecco...