Short shadows

The hat alone would probably provide
complete shade

It is one of those odd little things that I remember from my first time in the tropics: when the sun is overhead,  your shadow disappears into your feet. 

I was reminded of it today, when I was trying to work out how to position the sun-bed so that I would be at the best angle to catch the sun and - oops! - no shadow. 

With the damage to the ozone layer and the growing threat of skin cancers, some people would find the very idea of stripping to minimal clothing and sun-bathing unthinkable. Like the lady in the photo, (madam - your legs are naked!) they cover up with long sleeves.

I suffer under the delusion that I am slightly more presentable in a darker skin-tone, and last year I bought up IKEA's total clearance stock of high protection factor sun cream at 20 pence per pot, with the declared intention of a personal make-over. It's a variation on spit-roasting. I am very happy to coat, bake, turn and baste carefully at frequent intervals. Especially if the sun-bed is next to the plunge pool.

Yes, - the rain has stopped, the sky has a gentle haze that just takes the edge of the scorching glare, and a gentle breeze makes for a luxuriously comfortable environment. 

Large creatures feel more comfortable semi-submerged

Today I made the effort once again to wander the couple of hundred yards to the beach. I shuffled out of my sandals and stepped into the warm water, staggering to keep my balance in the soft sand and gentle swell as the waves rolled on up. It is surprisingly difficult to retain any decorum on entering and leaving the water, since the sand is so soft that it's a struggle to stay upright when you walk in, and it is almost impossible to stand up when you swim back to the beach later.

In the end, I gave up trying to stand and crawled back through the shallows on all fours after various attempts to find a footing and stand upright had resulted in spectacular crashes and minor tsunamis when my bulk hit the water. 

15 months ago, living in Italy, I had a hip replacement (and there's a blog about that, too.) After hospital I was encouraged to take plenty of exercise, which was impossible in half a metre of snow on the slopes of the Sibillini mountains. When I returned to live in England last year, I never found pavement-pounding very inspiring, and when I was finally referred to a local physiotherapist in Lincolnshire, I was given a very boring series of exercises. 

By January, I was fed-up with my limp and fed-up with trying to get rid of it.

This man had the same idea

A couple of weeks in Mauritius and not only is the limp gone, but I am also in danger of becoming slightly less unfit. It's amazing what a daily dip in the sea does for general mobility and fitness. 

Once you're in the water, there's the buoyancy effect of the sea and any kind of exercise becomes ten times easier. 

I soon recovered all the mobility and flexibility in my hip, and reactivated sleeping muscles that had been severed in the hip-replacement operation. I found that by going out to shoulder depth and then "running on the spot" - a sort of treading water with my toes kicking off from the sand - I could build up my strength in a way that just hadn't been possible on icy Lincoln pavements last month.

Couldn't build up much of a tan in Lincoln, either. . .!