Slaphappy approach leaves you feeling the burn
Folks, I did something pretty dumb recently. So stupid, in fact, that I really don't know where to hide my face.
I got sunburnt last weekend.
Sympathy at home has been thinner than the microscopic layer of sunscreen I applied to my pasty white body at the beach last Sunday.
Having said that, I did make sure our granddaughter hit the surf in a full bodysuit and hat. Plus, the few bits of exposed skin sticking out of her togs was slathered in enough sunscreen to cause a small environmental emergency.
Anyway, after a couple of hours of frolicking in the sea like a delighted walrus I headed home. The moment I knew I was in deep trouble was when I stepped into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and saw a bright red fire hydrant with my eyes and curly hair gawping back at me.
Even as I stared, my glowing red skin darkened to a deeper shade of crimson. It was like a scene from a horror movie where the scientist, having tasted his latest potion, suddenly notices one of his fingers has turned into a talon. In spite of covering it with a glove we all know this isn't going to end well.
Honestly who gets sunburnt nowadays?
Well, the young idiot practising tennis stripped to the waist at the Australian Open for starters. And, to my utter astonishment, the two shirtless young blokes laying bricks on the building site across from our house.
It was too much, so, dressing like an anxious vampire, I popped over the road. "Hey!” I shouted over the noise of their radio. They looked up to see a middle-aged man swathed in clothes, dark glasses and an oversized hat lift his shirt to reveal a stomach the shape and colour of a large, ripe, peeling tomato.
"Is this what you want to look like!” I cried.
From the alarmed looks on their faces I could tell my simple message had impacted them.
"Yeah mate, I never want to get that fat,” one of them said eventually.
Boy, was my face red.
Find Greg Bray at gregbraywriter.word press.com or Facebook: Greg Bray - Writer