Red skin and cars

As is the custom on sunny days in Germany, we went and sat by a lake yesterday. It is, of course, a mountain of fun (especially if you ignore all the wind blowing sand into your eyes). Reading a book, drinking fizzy drinks, eating some gummi bears...

I paddled a bit, too. And, snigger, there were ladies there, tee hee, with no tops on! Obviously, I wasn't looking cos I was too busy throwing sticks into the lake for Billy to go and fetch. That and ignoring Hanni's, and every-dermatologist-in-the-whole-wide-world's, advice to put sun cream on. Today my calves are so red, so painful, so like having itchy, crispy bacon superglued to my skin. I think I learnt a valuable lesson about skin care.

So, as I ouch-ed along the street with Billy this morning, trying to stop him from sniffing every "doggy message" on the way to the coffee shop, this middle-aged bloke came up to me and asked me something. I told him I didn't understand as my German isn't very good. He seemed to not care, and motioned for me to follow him across the street. So I followed him to his car, and he opened the back door behind the passenger seat and mimed that I should push the seat forward. He went and got in the driver's side. I was confused. Then he scooched over to the passenger side and eins, zwei, drei, GO! I pushed the seat forward as he pulled it forward. And that was it. He said danke a lot, scooched back to the driver's seat, and drove off.

And, huh huh, talking of cars: the ninth episode of Batman and Robinson.