Leave me, I want the Sabastian look. Under the sea …

sunburn_cs I am two tone again!

This is not for sensitive viewers.  By sensitive, I mean sensible, people who are sensitive to issues of doing the right thing, being capable, organised and aware of sunburn.  I am so, so, so sunburnt, and I feel so alive at the same time. You could call it glowing, for I am sure I do glow in the dark and right now, emitting enough body heat to lure to most frigid my way.

For years I have not seen a tan line, joined the ranks of pasty Londoners who term themselves ‘alabaster’ and echo Austin women.  It’s fine for London, but here in the summer, I just looked sick.  Now I look sick, cool sick, or shall when the red turns to the golden brown (if I don’t peel).  I shall be sun kissed after having been sun smacked.  And I love it.

Knew it was coming.  Looked at the 50 factor and thought nah, I want rapid results on the beach. Time is of the essence here. Perfect setting, lapping waves, wobbly bits escaping from the 80’s bikini but then who knows me I think and I shall lie here – no that’s not comfortable – repose here and look at the frolicking children.

My tan is distinct.  Red, like Sebastian the lobster.  The response position has left a distinct mid-line white mid-belly, between the rolls mark.  The below the bikini back and below the bum line is the colour of mercurochrome. Monkey blood red. But two tone ladies, I am two tone again.

Reprimand all you like.  The pain of sinking into a bath is a masochistic pleasure, aaah, slowly, aaah, stinging … aaah, feels great. Lashings of cream and a cool glass of wine is bliss.

Do you remember that feeling from youth after a long day spent on the beach or in the pool?  Washed, wet hair (do you remember ‘Body on Tap’ with real beer), tingling skin, summer pj’s, staying up late?  That’s the feeling of a great summer’s day. Darling, you have been away too long.

Before I head back to London, I am going to do the Baywatch, the Seventeen magazine, the 70’s mode of bumming on the beach; diving under the waves, feeling the salt on my skin and reading unimportant holiday novels.

The fact that I was lying there on my tummy and got totally taken out by a wave, wet towel, wet bag, wet flipping everything – not so cool – is irrelevant. ‘Under the sea, under the sea’ … me I was under the sea and cosying up to Sebastian is right where I want to be.

Image Lonely planet

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