Me vs Sun

Don't expect a tanned family of O'Neill's on our return. We will either be white or striped with burns.
It's a never ending battle with the sun in Brazil.

We live in fear of burning the children and ourselves. Kids don't wear sun suits here and there aren't many pale foreign tourists. Sometimes we let our guard down and allow the children into their bikinis which is a rare treat for them as we're so paranoid about skin cancer. But no matter how much cream or how high the factor or how often the application their skin turns an ugly scarlet and we are ashamed to have people see them and go to bed guilt ridden, chastising ourselves.
So the next day we force them into sunsuits and ignore the stares of the bronzed Brazillians. It's the Anglo-Irish genes we have blessed them with. 'Melonin? Who-der-what-now?'.

Even we as adults have given up on the ideal of returning home biscuit brown and have taken to wearing factor 50 all over and limiting any exposure to the sun. It's a battle we can't possibly win. The Pasty-Mac-Pasty family that we are just couldn't exist here. The sun is too close to the earth, it's viscious and unrelenting. You can feel yourself rapidly cooking externally under its glare.

So, like I say, you shant be jealous of our expected golden bodies when you next lay eyes on us. We may as well have been to the frozen Tundra. Pale and interesting, keep reminding myself, pale and interesting...