Our week away has been truly splendid. You can see from the above picture that my new mastectomy swimming costume was a triumph. The same cannot be said for the footwear which looks like it would be more at home in Irish dancing than on a beach. In fact, wearing slightly different footwear I managed to get my feet a little crispy. As in burnt. I had duly slathered myself in the aforementioned Neal’s Yard sun cream SPF 30, only my sandals rubs patches off. Which I then stupidly forgot to reapply. Stupid stupid stupid.
I have been more focused than usual on tanning during this trip. I am generally not bothered, given that I have had fifty years on this earth of just burning. However, in that time I have learnt a thing or two and, sandal incidents and stupidity aside, I generally know how to avoid burning now. My usual colour is a shade warmer than deathly. But just a shade. Apart from my cheeks which always boast a ruddy glow. However, given my impending date with the Poison Department (aka Chemo Unit), I fancied at least beginning the process with a reasonable tan. Especially since all sun needs to be shunned unless painted in factor 50. So I have embraced the opportunity for a bit of sun worship.
I will be feeding back to Neal’s Yard re their sun cream – I don’t know if I have had a dodgy batch or not, but everything, and I mean everything, that has come close to it or me while anointed has been heavily stained yellow. I know that sun cream often stains clothing but this has been something else: my towels, my bed sheets (even after showering), my clothes and my beautiful swimming costume all now shades of yellow. This does worry me regarding my tube of factor 50 at home as I will have to either chose my clothes very carefully, not wear it or buy some more sigh.
Anyway, in the middle of all this sunbathing, I have managed to end up with what will become the most stupid tan line in the history of stupid tan lines. On the beach, after swimming, I tend to wear a bandanna to keep my hair off my face. At some point I must have pulled it down slightly. Not much. Of course, the sun chose that moment to bless me with a nut brown complexion. In an instant. So I have a line. And under other circumstances it would never be noticeable. But given that my hair is about to fall out I am going to look more than a little ridiculous. The Captain has offered to dust off his range of wood stains to colour match my scalp in anticipation. Rude.