Lynn's Comments: We had been living in northern Manitoba, where the winter sun rises around 10 in the morning and sets around 4 in the afternoon. We were all pale faces; the only colour being the inevitable frostbite which reddened our cheeks and made our noses peel. The thought of spending a day on a sandy beach under a warm tropical sun overrode my common sense and inevitably I spent the first few days in agony. What was to have been a second honeymoon became "Don't touch me!" and this drawing was received by my spouse with little humour.
Lynn's Comments: Sunburns were part of the summer experience when I was young. North Vancouver rarely became too hot for comfort so a clear, cloudless day when you could lie on a blanket on a dry back yard lawn was heaven. A tan at that time was important. People buttered themselves up; they glistened with oil and worked hard to move straps and waistbands so as to cover every exposable inch possible. We spent hours forcing colour to rise to the surface of our melanin challenged hides. On the beach at English Bay, we all listened to the same radio station and every 15 minutes, the DJ's on CFUN would tell us to roll over. You would then see everyone down the whole length of the beach, like frying sausages, roll at the same time. This was supposed to prevent sunburn - but it never did. Many a night I went to bed after a cool bath, with cold cream covering my seared and sorry skin. Afterwards, I'd peel like a banana and vow never to do it again. HAH! I'm older and wiser now and my pallor is preferable. It's interesting, isn't it. Despite warnings and proof that the sun can do more damage that we ever imagined, folks willingly... still get burned.