British Problems

Recently it’s been slightly less freezing and slightly more lukewarm temperature in Plymouth, so sure enough I immediately turned the shade of hot-pink boiled lobster. If you don’t believe me, behold:

Excuse the shiny glazed look of the legs, I moisturised them to within an inch of their life, since I had been waddling around like some crazed old crone because of the soreness. Just to reiterate, here’s Kieran looking gorgeously tanned:

And here is my boiled-traffic-cone beacon of a leg, brighter than the sun and terrifying passers-by: