Is it just ME?

Or do YOU also have midlife sun-phobia?

TEN years ago this summer, I was lying, face down, on a sunbed on a beach in southern Spain when I had an epiphany.

Actually, it was less a moment of revelation than a searing pain in my spine that changed my mindset about sunbathing.

Trying to read a book in the only position that guaranteed I tanned the back of my legs, I realised I didn’t have to go through this torture. A quick spritz of fake tan could sort it.

As I struggled to get off the sun lounger, I made a decision: sunbathing was no longer worth the effort.

The sweaty tedium of it all, the interminable basting with sun cream, the fiddling with straps to avoid white stripes, would be consigned to youthful memory.

These days, my summer holiday schedule goes more like this. Breakfast in the shade on the terrace. Early morning swim in the pool

Sunbathing is no longer worth the effort — basting with sun cream, forever fiddling with straps

before the sun has gathered any momentum. Shower and dress in loose trousers and a T-shirt or a floaty maxi. Walk into town under cover of the trees wearing a sun hat...

And so the days pass at a relaxing pace, without me having to worry about sunburn or check my moles every half hour for any worrying changes.

I’m safe in the knowledge that, while the wrinkles I have may be the result of my misspent younger days and the passing years, I’m not adding fuel to the flames of inevitable decrepitude by exposing myself to the sun 24/7.

The beauty of it all is that I am actually acquiring a tan, because, even while being in the shade, some rays get through. I am so busy swimming, walking, reading and eating leisurely lunches on the terrace that there’s barely time for sunbathing. I’m loving every minute.