Don Your Way column: Cooked to a crisp with sunburn stupidity

I’m guessing I’m probably not the only person in Doncaster sporting a face akin to a freshly cooked beetroot this week.
Life is hell when you don't slap on the sun tan lotion, says Darren Burke.Life is hell when you don't slap on the sun tan lotion, says Darren Burke.
Life is hell when you don't slap on the sun tan lotion, says Darren Burke.

Or slapping on aloe vera filled bottles of after sun on tender arms after getting a bit too many rays these last few days.

I freely admit to totally under estimating just how hot it was at the start of this week and as a result, ended up with some pretty bad sunburn.

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Yep, hands up, I was stupid and made a mistake, despite years of slathering on the factor 50 at the merest sign of the sun flickering through the trees.

Me and my partner had decided to make the most of the easing of the lockdown restrictions by getting away from it all on Monday by heading to the wild and untamed beauty of Spurn Point.

If you don’t know it, its a narrow strip of land reaching out into the Humber Estuary, the river on one side, the North Sea on the other, a finger of land three miles long serving up peace and tranquility and some stunning natural landscapes.

It’s also pretty breezy. Very breezy. And of course, those strong and refreshing sea breezes stupidly led us to believe we’d be OK.

We weren’t.

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We’d barely got back through Hull before we realised that our bodies were turning a deeper shade of red.

By the time we got home to Doncaster, the pain and discomfort was starting to kick in and so it was an emergency trip to the supermarket for blister plasters and after sun in a bid to save our blistering and sore limbs.

Since then, we’ve compared our battle wounds on a daily basis, both realising how daft we were and trying to stay out of the sun and in the shade as much as possible, despite the occasional trip out for ice cream and refreshing drinks.

Seeing the town’s legions of bare-chested blokes also sporting third degree burns at least proves we’re not alone, even if it offers little comfort.

Now pass me another wet towel, please.

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