COLUMN: Someone get out the aloe vera - the whole country is burnt to a crisp

What is it about the sun that drives normally sensible, sane individuals out of their minds?
Is it the prospect of actually being able to finally break out that pair of Polaroid sunglasses you spent €250 on five years ago or is it just the realisation that the mercury can reach higher than 19C that sends the population demented as soon as that ball of light is seen in the sky?
Whatever the cause, we're well and truly seeing the results of last weekend's endless sunshine. The country has, quite literally, turned a lovely shade of red. Lobster red.
Body parts that probably haven't seen the sun since this time last year, if ever, were exposed to UV for more than five minutes on Saturday and possibly Sunday, and it's safe to say, that most of us have already achieved, maximum crispiness for 2019.
Look outside and you'll see sunburned skin so tight that some victims are practically squeaking when they walk. And forget the prospect of sleep. There's no rest when your skin feels like its radiating heat the equivalent of an 800 watt microwave. Take solace if you're in a relationship - you can share your misery with your partner, even if they were smart enough to slap on the sunscreen, that's how relationships work...sort of.
It's not like most of us haven't been fried by the sun before so it's not like we should be surprised to suddenly have shoulders so burned that the prospect of wearing a bra, a t-shirt or even putting on a seat-belt, rate up there with having teeth pulled, without the anaesthetic.
But, of course, none of this massive potential for pain (and mortification) enters your head as soon as the sun finally makes an appearance in Irish skies.
It's shorts on, flip flops out (they are thongs by the way, thongs...I'm Australian, I should know) and zero sunscreen until, you know, you've built that mythical 'base' layer.
What is this base layer? It's that mythical point where you apparently burn yourself to a crisp before turning a shade of bronze which then miraculously gives you protection from any further prospect of sunburn. Here's a hint folks, the majority of us have about as much potential to fly to the moon unaided as we do of turning anything remotely close to brown. That's not a base layer, it's guaranteed pain and a promise that, in the future, your skin will have the lovely weathered appearance of a leather couch.
I'm going to be brutally honest here. Due to the curse of fair skin that most people of Irish descent have, we are all doomed to go from pasty white, to luminescent red, before peeling at least the top 10 layers of our epidermis and then, once again, emerging so white we can probably be seen from space.
Sorry.
The only way any of us pasty people will become even remotely brown, is if we stand the indignity of having a long-suffering beautician dye our skin in the human equivalent of a spray-paint booth - while we wear a dinky cloth shower cap and a disturbing pair of disposable underwear (to avoid the 'big knickers' fake tan lines).
So now that we've all gone and done a number on our skin for Summer 2019 for the love of god put some sunscreen on next time the sun comes out. It will be June 2020 some time, so you'll have plenty of time to prepare.