Student days; we were carefree and careless. We would never grow old. Life would go on forever just the way it always did, every summer...or so we believed.

We poured on bottles of skin tanning lotion, smothering our bodies to achieve that tanned look. Sunbaking was in, summers were fabulous. We had great bodies; we showed off our tans and flaunted our figures. ‘Slip, slop, slap’ had not even been invented.

Today when I visit Lorne I take time for a nostalgic visit to the Arab. As ‘sophisticated’ uni students we sat on the floor on cushions in the dim glow of candles and lamps. We drank coffee though I’m not sure we really liked the taste, and philosophised deep into the night. We were totally cool....and deeply tanned.

Now as a grandmother, sitting on the beach with grandchildren these days is a very different experience. We’re all covered up to within an inch of our lives.

For the children on top of the Very Expensive Bathing Gear there is the Very Expensive Protective Cream. We all sit under a billowing tent to protect us from every last aberrant hint of sunshine that might sneak in.

“What about our bones without Vitamin D?” I ask the parents. They quote me the latest findings, scientific proof that soaking up the sun can be done easily and simply.

“More than enough sunlight is received for Vitamin D production by simply sitting near a window or from as little as a few minutes outside during the day. Skin aging and skin cancers are delayed effects which don’t usually present themselves for many years after exposure.” (Molescan, Doncaster East, 2015). They’re right about that last sentence!

“Nanna, what are those spots on your hands?” asks my five year old granddaughter.

I explain that the sun has hurt my skin. She strokes my hands gently. Those spots have turned toxic recently, leaving me with what my OT daughter describes as the curse of the old – skin cancers from too much sunbaking in our beautiful, heedless, careless youth.

I am now paying the price. In the next few months small bits of me will be carefully removed to avoid the dreaded invasion of skin cancer on my body.

When her father admitted that he was about to have several spots removed from his head that same daughter blithely quipped “Oh Dad, nursing homes are full of old men with holes in their heads”. 

He’s not in a nursing home but his daughter, who works with the elderly in nursing homes every day, had little sympathy for his plight.

So, it will be a chop here and a chop there. I will be wearing scars on arms and possibly elsewhere as my skin breaks down and sun damage becomes more evident.

We meet friends and there is usually at least one sporting a serious looking tape, noticeably on the nose or cheek, signifying a spot has been removed.

It becomes a badge of honour, except that it’s not honourable, it simply shows the world how careless and cavalier we were in our youth!

Our children loved being tanned when they were young. They lay on sun lounges, bodies smeared with oils, potions and lotions, soaking up that dangerous sun and loving the tan they displayed, ignoring my warnings and pleas. They are much more sensible and responsible with their own children today.