Galveston

We left Houston the morning of Easter Sunday and arrived in Galveston a little after midday. It was pretty overcast and, as every weather forecast we’d heard that morning had threatened heavy rain, we figured we best make the most of the dry weather whilst it lasted. So, reasoning we’d only have an hour tops before the heavens opened and not wanting to waste any precious sun-bathing time by applying sunscreen, we dumped our bags in the motel and headed for the beach.

Five hours later, we gingerly peeled ourselves off the sand and returned to the car, trying to ignore the glances from passers-by.

Surely things couldn’t be that bad?

It had been windy and fairly cloudy for most of the day?

Oh! How wrong we were!

We were frazzled!

Never in my life have I been so burnt!

Following a rather steamy (and stormy) dinner at a Mexican restaurant over-looking the beach we went back to the motel to survey the damage in a mirror.

At first, we laughed.

“Look, I’ve even burned my ear!”

“Look, I have an actual bow from my bikini top on my back!”

“Look how white my backside is!”

But later, as the fiery burning took hold, our giggling faded.

“Ow! I’m so hot!”

“Ow! My stomach hurts!”

“Ow! My backside hurts!”

Finally, as the sunstroke kicked in and the shivering started, we slowly eased ourselves into bed, all plans for a night-out abandoned.

By 7:30, we were all fast asleep.

What had we done to ourselves?!