On my final day in the bustling city of Madrid, my brother and I decided to take it easy. Due to the timing of my flight back to the freezing metropolis that is London, we had just the morning and part of the afternoon to while away.
After another appetising feast of bread and butter for breakfast (never again will I let my brother do the catering), I knocked us together some sandwiches and other tasty nibbles and then we headed out towards the park. It was another hot day, and the sky was completely empty of clouds. Typically, I had been super organised and had PACKED my suncream. Not a smart move.
We wandered around the park until we found a pleasant spot, and then spent the time munching my amazing sandwich creations and watching people pass by. I basked in the sunshine as if I had been locked in the dark for a lengthy time, knowing full well that this was likely to be the last I saw of the golden orb for some time.
After another stroll around the beautiful lake and the glasshouse, time forced us to turn our steps homewards once again. I noticed a cheery pink colour spreading across my arms and prayed like hell that my face was not in a similar state. The curse of pale skin is certainly not a fun one.
Back at the flat I had a fun time attempting to deflate the mattress that had been my one source of comfort on the tiled floor. My brother, needless to say, adopted a supervisory role, issuing many (un)helpful suggestions.
Once packed, we headed to the airport and I entered the departure lounge alone. I think it was rather evident to everyone who saw me which flight I was likely to be getting. I was the only pink, orange-haired person in the departure lounge amid a sea of olive-skinned sunlovers. Having sunburn is not fun at the best of times, but being THE ONLY person with it in the entire airport is something else altogether. At least I could prove I had been away…