I assume there is such a thing as second degree murder to differentiate it form manslaughter or "Murder One" (as booked by Danno on a weekly basis some time ago).
What I do know is that there is definitely such a thing as second degree sunburn, but that just doesn't grab the attention at the head of a post somehow. It's got Sam and Kirsty's attention though.
Sam went to the pub at the weekend to watch the match. (Sorry that should of course have read "The Match"-- with apologies to any Paraguayan readers). He had a few lagers. Celebrated the result, if not the second half performance, and wended his merry, or at least tipsy, way home. It was a nice afternoon so he went out in the garden and fell asleep in the chair. Fortunately for him he had kept on his sacred red jersey, but his aqulline nose took the full force of the afternoon sun for a couple of hours whilst he snoozed. He now has a schnozz worthy of the late lamented Jimmy Durrante. And as they say round these parts "It kills".In fact, though he now has one of the all time comedy ailments, he has escaped lightly comapred to Kirsty.
Kirsty is, as they say, a big lass. She is big in every respect of the word, and has the sort of ample figure described in inches and repeated letters of the alphabet. This asset in tune with current fashions was displyed to its fullest advantage on Sunday.
How do I know this?
From the burns now evident. Celtic heritage and blistering sunshine (quite literally in her case) do not go well. And yes, sure enough "They're killing" too.
It seems Noel Coward was right about the "Mad dogs and Englishmen". It's as though there's something "soft" about using sun protection. I'm willing to bet that if you asked sunburn victims like Sam and Kirsty to stand in front of an electric fire till if started to burn they would hit you. Likewise they might demur if asked to service a nuclear (that's pronounced "new clear" by the way) reactor without the benefit of protective clothing. And yet, because it's just dear old Sol beaming down on us it must be ok.
Generations of Aussies and Kiwis will tell you different. They could teach us a thing or two about sun protection, but untill they do surgeries up and down the land will be full of Sams and Kirsties today, and likely for a few days to come. I tell you it's murder out there!
9 comments:
A friend was telling me this evening about her daughter, who was wearing a lacy top when she got sunburned. She now has a patterned back and will be blistered in dainty circles. Ow.
Sounds more like 'suicide 2' to me.
I didn't realise I was teaching her, but my 15-month-old granddaughter now knows where her schnozzle is. she calls it 'nose' (well, no') to everyone else......
z-- I assume it's our general lack of experience with bright sunshine that does it. Presumably Africans would get into similar scrapes in Nunnavut (sp?)with the frostbite...
Oh and good work on the granddaughters vocabulary ;-)
And you prescribed what exactly?
I took a healthy dose of "I told you so"'s and "you should regularly reapply"'s for mine.
Mr A-- (or Lobster Boy if you prefer) Sam got away with a mild pisstake and a don't do it again. I like to remind fella's that Sun Burn is a self inflicted injury and therefore a Court Martial offence-- surprisingly few have hit me as a witty retort. Must be my boyish charm.
Poor Kirsty really was in troule though. Blisters as big as jam jar lids (sorry, rubbish analogy but can't come up with a better one for that size of roundness) so she got a tube of cream to use if they popped, (that's the blisters not the breasts themselves obviously).
wendz-- spoken like a true caucasian from the Southern Hemisphere. And rightly so. I reckon we should recruit you for a public health campaign on the virtues of pallor-- specially judging form the photo ;-)
Just thought. Maybe the Goths are on to something, after all you don't see many of them with a tan, or indeed in daylight. Hmmm....
Not sure I could go for all that ironmongery though.
Many (many) long years ago I tried to learn to windsurf. Being of a pale complexion, and knowing how easily I burn I slathered up appropriately. When I forgot is your feet get wet.
They swelled up to double their normal size, had to wear very loose sandals for a week and put up with bigfoot jokes. Ohhhh it hurt (the jokes that is).
the boy-- Strangely that's when you find your closest friends have the cruellest humour too I find. Unless you have me as your GP that is....
wendz-- you're probably right. My fear is I'll wake up one day to find they've decided they can't afford me either :-(
damian-- whereas we're the ones rearranging said deckchairs into "amusing" swastika shapes at 3am, fuelled by lager and burnt to a crisp.
Even my own kids keep going on about getting a tan like it's a good thing after everything we've taught them. Bloody peer pressure :-(
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