Pink bits

All over the country there will be people with pink bits, red bits, raw bits and sore bits. Lulled and depressed by a damp, grey summer, the warnings about skin cancer and protection from the sun have drifted into oblivion and the Ambre Solaire has long ago been relegated to the back shelves at the chemists where athletes foot powders, support bandages and personal aids with product logos from times past normally sit and sulk.
April sun brought weeks of shorts wearing, brown knees and freckled cheeks, but the sad return to winter pastiness means vulnerability, and consequently after two days working outside with inadequate supplies of sun block, I have pink bits. My décolletage is neither nut brown nor creamy white. I clash with Barbie. I am starting to itch. In a few days I will peel. The look gets less and less attractive as time passes. Just like the chemist's also rans, I too am heading for a sulk.