Scorched Earth

Last week saw the chance to get out, as a spectator, on the course with the Old Man and my friend. He was up from England on business and took the opportunity to have a round on Dad’s club course, Lundin Links.

It’s been dry here for well over 5 weeks now and the landscape reflects just how hot it has been. All the fairways were yellow and brown, a startling change from the usual lush greens of a golf course. The day started off drizzly so I went unprepared for the sea-change of weather to roasting hot, yet fresh breeze. The end result, as to be expected, was that later on in the evening I progressed from my skin feeling like it had seen fresh air, to a full-on, shiny surfaced face melt. I applied after-sun like it was water, trying desperately to wick the heat away from my face. Water was taken on board rapidly to try and stem the imminent moisture sap as my face tried to heal itself.

Later on at bed-time, I got the tower fan we’d been using to cool Miss down (until she complained that it was squeaky and thus unacceptable to be in her room) and planted it 4 inches from my face, cranked to full speed. I even got some kitchen roll, wet, and sat with it on my face with the fan blowing on me, to try and shunkilly recreate a heat-sink effect and remove as much soaring heat as possible. Absolute nightmare, so it was.

A week later and things are OK now but there’s a few areas of dryness, mostly on my nose, but I feel I’ve gotten away with it lightly. It was maybe a good thing as prep for heading to France on Saturday, but I immediately recalled to mind something my Uncle said on our sailing trip last month, where he said that the top of the lugs is the most vulnerable place to catch the sun, as it’s the place most quick to develop skin cancer. Here I was, basking in this glorious sunshine in the middle of a golf course, not hat in sight, no cream on, no nothing.

I’ll not do that again in a while. Especially with France being in the high 30’s right now. You can take the Scotsman out of Scotland…