fivemack: (Default)
Tom Womack ([personal profile] fivemack) wrote2004-08-01 09:15 pm

Holiday plans

[yr hmbl correspondent wonders where to get waterproof spray-on sunscreen, as he sits with blistered shoulders after spending Saturday on the beach at Bournemouth with [livejournal.com profile] hsenag et multi alii]

Work is starting to drag in the sort of way that suggests a holiday would be good, so I'm reckoning on taking two weeks off starting next Monday.

I'm hoping it's not going to be the sort of holiday that needs a holiday to recover from it; Saturday and Sunday in Nottingham with my old housemates and hopefully Chiara, Monday and Tuesday in Cardiff with [livejournal.com profile] papersky and [livejournal.com profile] zorinth, Wednesday probably lazily at home, then heading to Cambridge Thursday-ish, and Friday to Friday staying up on the coast near Middlesbrough on a walking holiday with my parents.

Is there still group activity in Cambridge on Thursday nights?

[identity profile] papersky.livejournal.com 2004-08-01 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Is there still group activity in Cambridge

"And stands the clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?"

I don't know if you know that poem, but it contains wonderful abuse of most villages around Cambridge.

As far as the sunscreen goes, I second Adrian's recommendation of looking in the kid's section. I'd also add the bit that Zorinth didn't quite understand -- "waterproof" means "works while in the water" not "can be applied at 10h00 and will last while you're in and out of the water all day". You need to reapply when you get out, and frequently.

[identity profile] fivemack.livejournal.com 2004-08-02 02:16 pm (UTC)(link)
I think I only knew the few lines at the end, I hadn't expected the poem (http://eir.library.utoronto.ca/rpo/display/poem231.html) to be several pages long. The abuse is truly fine, especially the variously-blanching strong men, and the Lovecraftian nameless crimes of Coton.

Reapplication is what gets me every time, for the sun-cream is under the shelter on the fine dry sand at the top of the beach; once I've got there from the water, I'm sandy all over, and rubbing greasy, abrasively sandy lotion over already-sore skin is not among the delectable sensual experiences of the world. You sympathise with Miles Vorkosigan.