I've come back to London and the weather is completely overcast and dreary - there may even have been a splash of rain yesterday evening as I made my way back home from work. Which is all depressing and uselessly British, but does give me an opportunity to spend a few days nursing my ravaged arm. A load of sunburn turned up on the other arm yesterday, which led me to believe that I was being mercilessly attacked by some sort of freak skin virus that may or not have come to earth on a meteor. My face has also "caught the sun", which is a mean euphemism for "your nose and patches of your forehead are completely different colours to the rest of you". In this case, a sort of deep pinky-brown.
The reason this is all so mildly distressing (but at the same time, perversely, I'm rubbing my little hands with glee as my life is particularly dull and I have no earthly clue as to how I've managed to blog about it for nearly four years) is that I always carry sun lotion in sprayable form in my wee man-bag when it's sunny. People mock me ceaselessly for my wee man-bag - it's like Mary Poppins' carpet bag, but considerably less roomy. I tried carrying a lamp around once, but I kept tripping over it and hitting myself in the face. I wasn't carrying my sprayable sun lotion 1) because it was in an entirely different part of the country and 2) I wasn't expecting any nice weather.
Keeping on top of the weather's game in this country is a particularly insidious business, you really have to be ready for absolutely anything.
1 hour ago