I'm molting!

So, last weekend I went to Plymouth, and spent a good portion of Saturday leaping several stories into the ocean below, and an even larger portion of Sunday lying on the beach at Whitsands.

I think I applied some form of sun cream at some point on Sunday, but obviously not enough, because I spent the entirety of Monday lying on my couch as red as a crayfish, moving only (and painfully!) to drink large quantities of water, spray myself with a mister and change DVDs. I was in a lot of pain. The pain has gradually subsided over the week and has now just been updated to a feverish itching.

Today some VIPs are coming through the office so there was a call to sort of spruce up the place a bit, I mean, not like it's a mess or anything but today out of all days they didn't want coffee cups and mountains of paper lying about everywhere (I think this is a mistake, I mean, it really looks as though you're not doing anything if you don't have mountains of paper all around you, is that the impression we really want to give out?). I did a bit of a sweep, put on my tie (ow ow ow), went to the bathroom and.....oh, bugger.

I look like a creature from the deep. My face is literally covered in tiny little scales. I wipe them away, sending a wave of dead skin into the air like disgusting snowflakes, but they're back within minutes. I look like I'm dying from the plague or or the flesh-eating virus or something.

I can just imagine the VIP tour coming into my office:

"....and this is where our bids are produc.....WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!? Call security! There's something loose in the east wing!"

and I'm shot and tranquilized and wake up in Veterinarians Hospital.

So I'm currently hiding in one of my cupboards until the tour passes by. Which will obviously make the situation a lot worse if someone on the tour opens the cupboard, but will hopefully save everyone a lot of embarrassment.