Once the temperature reaches a minimum of 14 degrees in Britain, the nations strips. The British sport their tan lines with pride and compare sun burn patches that will soon develop into a golden brown. Sun cream is for the light hearted and carrot oils fly off the shelves in the hope of achieving that just-been-on-holiday glow and when people ask where you've been, you announce with pride that your tan was nurtured from the comforts of your own back garden.
However, as a member of the Caspar Society, I can only sit and envy those with olive skin and spaghetti-strap tan lines as I smother myself in factor 30 and attempt to cover every inch of exposed, transparent skin. Okay, so perhaps I am exaggerating a little. But the jealousy of the golden tan is real.
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Part-time student/bar-associate |