Memoirs from Poole: Never Sunburnt

I don’t get sunburnt. The sun comes out, shining its hardest to try and fry my skin, and my body just turns a dirty brown colour. It’s a useful skill to have in life.

So on the second day, with its beautiful sunny weather, I didn’t have to worry about burning whilst I swam. Not me. The water kept me cool and the sun was just British sun. My body had survived Italian sun. How could British sun even hope to compare?

And when my face turned red (and broke out with freckles) and my shoulders glowed, I wasn’t concerned. It would fade soon, to a nice brown, because I don’t burn.

And when my shoulders became sore just lying down on a sofa, or whenever anyone touched them, or when a light breeze blew, I didn’t think twice. I don’t burn.

And the fact that I was applying moisturizer to my face every couple of hours was down to something else. It certainly wasn’t me being burnt.

And when I could peel skin off my shoulders, I wasn’t burnt. And the insane stinging sensation from the application of after-sun was down to an allergy or something. It couldn’t be that my shoulders were red and raw from having half the usual layers of skin.

It couldn’t be that.

Because I don’t burn.

:P