Burning up...

-
It was back to good old Blighty on Wednesday night.  Miss R and I had decided that as it was our last day, Wednesday should be the day we 'went for it' in the suntan stakes.  Now I tan fairly easily (this is an understatement - first whiff of a bit of sun and I resemble a walnut) so had been using some sun oil (with protection before you gasp in horror) on Tuesday with some dramatic effects.  My skin had gone a lovely bronze colour and there was a definite line where my cozzie had been.

Miss R, on the other hand, does not tan so easily, and has to invest in expensive creams and a lot of time to reach the colour I get from opening the curtains on a  sunny June morning.  But because she has already been abroad this year, she reckoned that she now had a 'good enough base tan to use the oil'. 

And so it came to pass that Miss R and I slapped the oil all over on Wednesday, and lay back on our sun loungers alternating our time with snoozes, drinks, dips in the sea and food.  When the time finally came around to shower and get ready for the taxi to the airport, Miss R disappeared to get washed and dressed.

When she came out, it was obvious that all was not as it should be.  'I think I may be a bit burnt', she said sitting down gingerly at the table.  She was almost rigid as she sat down, and I could soon see why.  Lifting her top slightly, she muttered, 'Take a look at that.  What do you think?  Is it burnt?'

What do you say when faced with a question like this?  Either 'Oh don't worry about that - just slap some aftersun on and you'll be fine', or do you go for the, 'Bloody hell, I've seen tomatoes less red than that.  You are going to suffer for at least a week, and you'll probably be able to turn the heating thermostat down a couple of degrees'.  Being the caring, loving, older sister that I am, I opted for the first, and watched as she slapped the aftersun on.  It evaporated before it even made contact with her stomach, and the wincing was eventually eased with a cold bottle of iced water pressed up against her midriff as we drove to the airport.

I thought I'd got away with it until yesterday morning.  Waking up, my face was as tight as a tambourine, and there was a good ten minutes of ferreting around for some Aloe Vera before work yesterday.

By the time I had Vera'd up and applied some BB cream (hides all blemishes apparently) I had toned down the face from pillar box red to Barbie pink.  

We never learn, do we...



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It's raining men...

-
We overslept this morning.  I'm not entirely surprised having walked the equivalent of a half marathon over the past two days, and we just about made breakfast.   We did all the usual Christmas stuff today.  Carnaby Street, Regent Street, Borough Market, mulled wine (again), chocolate covered bananas and caramelised nuts.  There was also the issue of the very inclement weather.  Wandering around the whole A to Z of London, the husband decided that a purchase of a hat and scarf was necessary.  Being a fairly sensible woman, I had brought a hat, scarf and gloves with me, but the husband, being of tougher stuff (he hails from the north) had proclaimed that he was no southern softy and would deal with whatever the weather had to throw at him in a manly fashion. Fast forward to late morning, the rain was chucking it down, and the manly fashion had morphed into wimpy whinging about a chaffed chin due to an evil coat zip and a wet head.  And so began the hut hunt. We tried sports shops (t
Read more

Diary...

-
Eight years ago, I came up with the idea of writing a diary for my children which I would put into the public domain.  And so Words from a Bird began.  Two thousand posts and almost a million words later, I am still going.  But like all of us, lives change.  Eight years ago, my life was all about the four children, schools, universities, boyfriends, girlfriends, work, my husband, family and the dogs. Much of that is still relevant today, thank goodness, but we now add in two weddings (one more pending), grandchildren (one, and again, one pending), retirement and looking after parents. So to all my completely gorgeous readers, to the ones who have been with me right from the start and to the new ones who have discovered me just this week, thank you for coming along for the ride with me.  I hope I carry on making you giggle for many years to come!   If you don't want to miss anything, just follow the Words from a Bird page. And when I am a very old lady, I hope that my children will
Read more

Ain't no mountain high enough...

-
Image
I thought you might be interested in the other stuff Mr Bird and I got up to while we were away in the Wobble Box this weekend.  The pinnacle of the weekend was the mountain climb (see what I did there?) but before this, we had anticipated a simple, peaceful and quiet few days together with the dogs.  What we hadn't expected was to be shouted at as we strolled to the pub on the first night, 'What on earth are you two doing here?' Standing outside a posh (and long) motor home, were two very good friends of ours.  Happily retired, they trolley around the world in their home on wheels, and just happened to land in Pandy a whole thirty minutes before we did on Thursday.  The funny thing is, that every time we see each other, the subject of caravans and motor homes is always raised, with promises on both sides made that we will arrange something together for a weekend.  To date, we've never managed to do this, but it finally happened by accident.  We all decided that th
Read more