The one in which we burnt...

The first week away we were blessed by glorious weather. Holland almost obligates you to cycle everywhere and it was a cloudless day when we cycled over the dunes and around the neighbouring villages for a day. My daughter was in a seat behind my husband; my son had his own bike and I was the packhorse (both rucksacks). I was, also, the only person who conceded at midday that perhaps a bit of sunscreen would be useful.

By the evening, my face was gently browning. My husband had worn a hat and long sleeves, my daughter appeared to have been hidden behind him, and my son wore knee-length shorts. Given all that, we burnt daughter's legs, son's arms, my arms and legs (I only protected my face...) and husband's knees. We hid from the sun for the next 24 hours and re-emerged later in the week, peeling gently...

Our second bike-ride was on a cloudy day, quite cool until after 4pm. It should simply be noted that it is possible to be quite pink even in the late afternoon sun. In four years living in Zambia we only got sunburnt once - at the Kariba Dam where temperatures can reach 54 degrees centigrade. A fortnight's European holiday and we all suffer.

We aim not to do anything by halves. If we are going to burn, we are going to do it in as many ways as possible. Firstly, my daughter drank her hot chocolate as soon as it was placed on the table, only to find it too hot and to drop it all down her front. Screams abounded. Her chest and stomach were bright red but she was saved by a can of Grolsch: straight from the fridge, its cooling effect quickly took away the worst of the burn.

Then later that day, my son catches his hand on a tray hot from the oven. He got a lot less sympathy than was fair, although there were more tears than the glancing burn deserved.

Thankfully, none of our accidents was serious, nor did they impinge on our activities too much. Hopefully we just learnt some valuable lessons. Or how useful it is to have a can of cold beer to hand ...