Stripper

Today

As earlier blogs show, Paul likes to tan. His skin is quite dark anyway, so he often ignores the need to use SPF.

During our recent WW tour I generally managed to persuade him at least to cover the more vulnerables bits. This he did; so I decided to overlook the fact that he always squeezes out too much lotion (it's a man thing), in the interests of the wider good.

In Fiji we did the whole Blue Lagoon bit. Paul tried snorkelling, until his moustache got in the way and the snorkel filled up with water. He swam about a bit in the warm water, then came up to where I was on the beach, playing with corally sand and trying to keep my hat on. "Fancy a walk along the beach?" he proposed. "OK - do you want some SPF?" "I'll be OK - we won't be gone long." And this was true - we walked along for about 40 minutes, looking at shells and coconuts and playing with 14-month old little Eva.

Later, I noticed just how red his back was. Slathered on coolants but too late. Over the next ten days the entire skin on his back peeled off. It itched like hell. I resisted (only partly successfully) the urge to help this process along by pulling bits off.

In My Day

When I was a child there was no SPF and nobody ever suggested avoiding sunshine. I did have little frilly sunbonnets up until I was about 5, I think, but we never put anything on our skins. Getting burnt seemed to be accepted and shrugged off. Mamma used to put calamine lotion on if it was very sore and itchy. This did help a bit, but one was then covered in an unsightly pinkish distemper.

I think that my skin was more sensitive than most and it didn't take much exposure to make me burn. Mamma sunbathed freely without apparent problems and we never saw Daddy in trunks, shorts or even short-sleeved shirts. The most he did was roll up his trouser legs and pop a knotted hanky on his head, like a parody of a Londoner by the seaside.

When we went to Bigbury Bay in 1957 it rained nearly all week. On the last day the sun at last came out and we spent the day on the beach, playing in rock pools and the like. Of course my back became very burnt.

On the train home the next day it was very crowded and we had to stand in the corridor for some of the way. One of Daddy's less fascinating bits of fun was a tendency to stuff crumpled bits of paper down your back when you least expected it. Normally, we just groaned, fished it out and carried on with what we were doing. Well, Daddy decided to inflict this little jape on me on the train. With my back red and raw with practically 2nd degree burning, this was even less funny than usual. I remember screeching and giving him quite a telling off. And I've always remembered it.

At least, as I told Paul, his flakes of skin were all nicely tanned.