Step 1: Get Mione Drunk

Awhile back, Mione and I were coming with plans to solve world problems. Nearly all of the plans began with Step 1: Get Mione Drunk. As with all late night comedic conversations, I'm not entirely certain how we got there, but ... well... can you argue with the logic?



On Saturday, I got up early (9:30), fully intending to take a shower and get some work done. After hopping out of the shower, I heard my phone ring and raced across the room to catch it - it was Mione. I was surprised to hear from her so early, as she had gone out to a party the night before - turns out, she was still on the verge of drunk/hung-over and had decided that she, Abigail, and I should go have a picnic on the beach. She and Abigail went out to Lidl's for food while I dried my hair, then we set off around 10, after stopping for coffee at Costas and marveling at the absolute glory of the gorgeous sunny morning. On our way through the Lower Gardens, we noticed that the Bournemouth Eye, a massive hot air balloon ride, was up and running - and what a lovely day for it! We grabbed a ticket, jumped on board, and were whisked over 500 feet in the air.



Returning to the ground, we took some time to enjoy the art projects set up throughout the park by the Arts Institute and the Bournemouth Uni. (Huzzah for bizarre "fine art" projects) :)



The beach was absolutely gorgeous - sunny, wavy, and surprisingly not absolutely crammed full of people. We set down my Stonehenge blanket, and unloaded the "Drunk-Mione-Normal-Abigail-Bought-Food" (rolls, cheese, chicken, crisps, strawberries, chocolate, string cheese, etc) - we realized after popping the top of the grape juice that we'd have to drink it all in one go - whoops. The strawberries were deliciously juicy, and I should point out that string cheese in the UK is real cheese - not the light-yellow plastic of the states. :) Abigail warns that chippy sandwiches (an English "delicacy" - a sandwich made entirely of bread and crisps) with cheese are not a viable option. We tried to get a picture of our sandy toes, only for Abigail to cry out, "Wait, where are my toes?!" We searched for them the rest of the afternoon. :)



Or, when we weren't teasing Abigail, we also would burst out singing, "Pow-pow-Power Rangers", which led to philosophical discussions of which Power Rangers we would've been.



After finishing up the food and a lovely nap in the sun (although occasionally having to restrain me from stealing the dogs running along the beach, or restraining Mione from stealing the babies), we started a slow, leisurely walk down the beach towards Poole. Along the way, we saw several amazing sand castles, three different groups playing cricket, learned that "Sarah is the devil", PUPPY!!, BABY!!, and even saw a completely topless woman, despite the fact that this was a family beach, not a topless one. (Hrmm...)



By the time we reached Poole Harbor, we were getting slowly tired and exhausted, and decided to pop up to the shops area to see how we could get home. We sat around waiting for the bus for some time, nibbling on crisps and chocolate, listening to gossip from Abigail's old school, and acting out Waiting for Godot. We eventually called a cab, which whisked us home - where we discovered it was after 4:30PM and we'd been out on the beach for over six hours. Didn't really worry about that right then, as I collapsed into bed and slept for almost three hours.



I should point out that every time I get horrifically sunburnt, I end up having really odd dreams while the burn sets in. This is my body's way of trying to tell me, "Wake up, get out of bed, apply aloe, and stop baking yourself under the covers". Do I ever listen to my subconscious? Silly...
Three hours later, I crawled out of bed going, Hmmm... my face feels rather crinkly. Why could this be... Awww, crap. (This was me arriving in my bathroom, to see my face, neck, and arms (beneath a truly lovely farmer's tan) a lovely cooked lobster colour. Fortunately, a few days back I had bought sunscreen at Wilko's (even if I didn't use it earlier that morning), which came with a free tub of after-sun lotion. I applied it liberally, then stuck some dish towels in my freezer - pulling them out a few minutes later provided me with a lovely little cool tent I could wrap around my skin for a few moments. Abigail, similarly crimsoned, brought in sliced cucumber which we applied to ourselves like leeches, and Mione brought in tea-bags, which were dipped in ice water, then applied over the skin, while the arm dripped into a bowl like a medieval bleeding.



The gang came downstairs and we watched "Bright Young Things", written by Stephen Fry and starring Stephan Campbell Moore, Emily Mortimer, Dr-Who's-Agatha-Christie, The-Guy-Who-Always-Plays-Tony-Blair, Peter-O'-Toole-Man, and David-Tennant's-Mustache.
Yesterday, I spent the day sleeping, applying lotion, and watching films (in no particular order), while keeping my upper body aerated in the freezing, heaters-off room, while my lower half shivered beneath three different blankets. Today, while still quite red, I'm feeling a lot better and even showered, dressed, and ran out to Wilko's for aspirin, shower gel, and Special K (just have to make sure I don't mix them up).
Amusingly enough, the Daily Echo (our local paper) had an article today saying that meteorologists are saying that, after the last two disappointingly miserable summers, this summer should be ridiculously hot and sunny. Eep.