Cover up! ...My wife, the sunscreen Nazi


Does my wife insist I face the summer’s rays, either fully covered up or looking like an animated meringue… a white blob completely covered in cream? As I watch Sky News today from Malta, I see the UK is nudging 40c (104 Fahrenheit). My fellow countrymen are slowly melting whilst watching their new Prime Minister inflict verbal assault and battery on the Leader of the Opposition in his first Prime Minister’s Question Time. I note none of the MP’s gathered are smothered in sun cream despite it being hotter than Beelzibub’s underpants. Clearly their wives have never met mine.

...and another thing

My own beloved wife exudes concern for my health to the extent that in the past week I have run the gamut of a neurology test, brain scan (yes, I have one), heart stress test, blood test, senility test and last but not least a visit to the proctologist.

Being British, instead of being grateful for this concern, I get all British stiff-upper-lippy and say there is nothing a cold shower or a cupful of cod liver oil cannot cure! Deep-down of course I am hugely grateful. One day, no doubt through gritted teeth, I might admit it and say thank you instead of trudging off to appointments with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man approaching a firing squad.

(Hopefully her reading this will avoid me having to do so).

...and another thing

Good health and preventative action against various summer ‘nasties’ needs to be balanced by dignity.

I have already mentioned the sun cream. I should add though, like talking to strangers while having a pee, it’s a woman thing. Women can spend hours in a chemist humming and hawing about which make is best, then anguish over cream gel or spray before pondering over the level of protection factor. Once my wife has purchased usually a dozen items, she can spend an entire day continually basting herself in these lotions and potions.

If men get bullied into wearing sunscreen, they want to

a) slap anything on in under 30 seconds

b) do it once a day

c) and preferably not in public.

It may be just me needing therapy but there is something vaguely humiliating in a man being told to stand still whilst being plastered in sun cream.

Of course, not applying sun cream turns my body into the colour of condemned veal and with skin so tender that if there is a draft I flinch. However at least whilst out in the sun I don’t look like I have just had a bath in Motor Oil, or worse have others see my wife chastise me for not wearing enough of the stuff.

...and another thing

In summer there are some other real no-no’s. In fact, no-nose. I would rather end up with a schnozzle like WC Fields than plonk one of those ridiculous mini parasols over my hooter when out on a deck chair reading a book.

Anti-midge and mosquito sprays may work, but I’d prefer the odd bite to spending the entire day smelling like a cross between a mothball and a bus driver’s sock.

And then of course is the fear of getting the ‘runs’…

When I was a kid my parents were so paranoid about stomach bugs that not only was every piece of fruit scrubbed clean right down to the pips and any salad was drowned in bottled water at the table so that it became as limp as Liberace’s handshake.

As an added precaution I was forced to take anti diarrhoea pills. The result was my intestines felt they were lined with concrete!

...and another thing

So, as you all head off for the sun, enjoy yourselves… even if it costs the men some pride. But if you wear a knotted handkerchief on your head or white socks and sandals it’s way too late to worry about pride!

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  1. Mark says:

    She is. Can you imagine married to me!

  2. Susie Brookes says:

    Great article Mark, really made me smile…..hope you and Kirstin are well. All the best, Susie & Nigel

  3. Nina says:

    Your wife is a star ….

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