Robyn’s Nest

One of my chums has given me a bit of a ribbing because I started my sunbed campaign this week, as I do every summer, in a bid to be a bronzed beauty on the beach.

I’ve started early (holiday is in five weeks) because it’s safer to build your tan slowly and that’s why I hit the tanning towers little and often. My quest for colour isn’t all about vanity though, it’s also a safe way to avoid sunburn when I step out on foreign shores. I do tan well once the base tan has developed but if my skin hasn’t seen sunlight for the best part of a year (which is likely to happen in this country) then I will burn baby burn. And burning is bad.

I refuse to stay out of the sun on hols, that’s the main reason I go abroad and bikinis just don’t look as good when you’re milk bottle white or lobster red. And I feel it’s better to tan slowly over time using UK sunbeds than risk a roasting on the Costa Del Sol. That’s my justification and I’m sticking to it.

However, today I am a tad on the pink side and an ickle bit itchy. And I know the reason, so it’s my own fault. You’re not supposed to use sunbeds when you’re lathered in body lotions and potions because they make your skin more sensitive. I am an avid user of the God of all moisturisers - E45 cream- and this is no problem.

But last night I indulged in a full body hot stones massage and mini facial which meant me leaving the salon looking like I’d tripped over an oil slick. I was coated in all kinds of massage oils and creams and the sunbeds didn’t take kindly to it - or rather my skin hasn’t.

Anyway, it won’t deter my bid to be tantastic this summer, it’s just another lesson learned.

My new job affords me the luxury of taking Christmas off - something which hasn’t happened since I started working. There’s nowt worse than staying sober while the family party around you, knowing you have a two-hour drive back to a freezing cold office the next morning. It kind of kills the festive spirit for me.

So, this year I’ve decided to boycott Christmas. Instead of stuffing myself with turkey and choccies, arguing over the TV remote control with my brother (yes, we are in our late 20s!)and wearing a stupid party hat, I’m gonna lie on a sunbed and soak up some rays.

Yes, I’m going on my winter jollies. Destination yet unknown (it’s a wee bit pricey and we’ve left it late to book so options are limited) but that’s what I’m doing.

I always liked to be at home at Christmas and never thought I’d be the type to dash off to sunnier climes. But I moved away from home years ago so “to go home” for Chrimbo is to actually stay in my mum’s spare room and make sure my ancient nan can make it to the toilet before she pees all over the furniture. We actually found her soiled undies among the prezzies under the tree last Christmas. I joke not. More like smelly Christmas than merry Christmas!

I may avoid December 25 this year but it doesn’t mean my Christmas spirit has disappeared - I’ll be using it up in the run up to the big day by attending as many parties, mince pie tasters and mulled wine evenings as possible. Ho ho ho!