The weather has been glorious here in London the past couple of days and I am beyond excited and happy for summer to finally be on the horizon. After a winter with way too much snow (I only wanted enough for one snowman, not six, in APRIL) and freezing temperatures I’d never experienced before I am now thrilled to know the heat is coming.

The girls in my office are clearly excited about this improvement in weather – one’s shown me her bright red bum from being on a sunbed for too long last night, and the other two have had short stints on the sunbeds and applied some fake tan for good measure. I’ve never felt so pale in my LIFE. While I know sunbedding and the like are bad for you, no one wants cancer, I can see why the British girls thrive on it. After seven months of cold and snow, having bronzed arms and legs really does make you feel alive and healthy. They LOOK healthy (except the red one). I’m all for faking it, but sometimes things can go wrong…

One of my flatmates pops by our local nail salon to get his tan topped up once a month. I’m thinking I will go with him next month, just for a quicky – don’t judge me. I’m a child of the southern hemisphere, we have barely any ozone layer (except that it’s repairing itself now), a quick six minutes will make me feel less ghostly. This near translucent shade I have right now is not me. Of course I will top it up with fake tan when required, I don’t wish to go sunbed crazy and turn into something beef jerky. Just enough for a natural glow.

I won’t turn into an orange, glowing beacon. Promise. But if I do start to resemble something similar, someone tell me. Please.