Learner Dad: We all had a grand farmer’s tan on us by the time we got home

Picture: iStock 

We got sunburned at the weekend, all four of us.

It was a classic May day in Ireland. W e left home to go to the beach and it had a late winter vibe about it. An easterly wind that would lift the skin off you — giant black clouds in the distance, with slightly blacker clouds just beyond them; e verything looked gunshot grey.

We had headed to the beach out of spite. A decision had been taken that we needed to get in the water for a spot of body-boarding, and there was no going back on it.

A bit of anaemic sun had warmed up the car, but reality hit the minute we got out and the easterly wind got stuck into our bones. I assumed the kids would get out, moan, get back in and we could all go home and watch a movie. But kids get giddy when they see sand and sea — ou r two just took off down the beach, taking clothes off as they went so they could get into the barely-above-zero water.

We got them back and into wet suits. That blocked out enough of the easterly wind to get us down to the water without losing the will to live. A group of hardy women were coming out of the water in mere swimsuits — it felt like they were judging us.

I’d say 10 minutes later, we were in the Bahamas. The gunshot grey sky disappeared in a rapid scene change — now it was blue skies, no wind, turquoise sea. It all felt like a misleading Fáilte Ireland video — all we were short were a few horses galloping along the strand, bearing Yanks in Aran jumpers.

The Irish summer had arrived at last.

Sunburn is the baddy now and you should never be further than 10m from a bottle of Factor 50.

Now we needed the water to cool us down because wet suits can turn against you very quickly in the sun.

A quick dip lasted for half an hour. My daughter told me she likes being in the sea because it reminded her of being in her mom’s womb. She has a great memory, that one.

And then the real bliss, where you come out of the sea in Ireland and, not only isn’t it raining, the sun is shining so you warm up quickly. The kids sat in the sand, digging holes. My wife and I just stood there, feeling the weight of winter lifting off us.

There was a slight niggle that we didn’t bother with sunscreen — but it was still winter, really, wasn’t it.

Not really. We all had a grand farmer’s tan on us by the time we got home. You know the one — redhead, red neck, red arms from the t-shirt line, or in this case, where the shorty wet suit stopped covering us.

This wasn’t the bad burning you’d get in the late 1970s, which required a bath followed by mummification in calamine lotion, and everyone would say you had a lovely colour, even though you looked like an angry beetroot.

But still, all four of us had ‘gotten a bit of sun’. And from what I can make out, you’re not supposed to get a bit of sun any more. Any bit of sunburn is a moral failure, particularly if it appears on your kids.

In the past, it was a sign of a healthy outdoors life, but sunburn is the baddy now and you should never be further than 10m from a bottle of Factor 50.

Luckily our kids get their skin tone from their parents, so any hint of a ‘colour’ had disappeared by the time they went to school the next day. That’s the upside to our foxy Irish colouring.

Taking our cue from the SunSmart campaign, there will be no more bounding down the beach and into the water. We’ll have the sunscreen chore done before any one can start to enjoy themselves. Still, it beats having to bath them and ladle on the calamine lotion. 

Of course, that’s assuming the sun bothers to shine again this summer. I hope I haven’t jinxed it now.