P20 and me – sun, Spain and paper planes
'P20 and me – sun, Spain and paper planes' is a sponsored post, in association with P20 The smell of P20 – sweet and somehow warm, like ice-cream on the beach or fresh fruit on a warm veranda – brings me right back to summer when I was six years old. My uncle owned an apartment in Denia in Spain, right when owning an apartment abroad became a thing. We felt so fancy.
We would go over en famille: my sister, our parents and I, to spend weeks that felt never ending, with my uncle, aunt and three older cousins. Days were spent swimming in the pool and eating watermelon and floating paper planes off the veranda down over the lush, green vegetation in the Denia hills.
My Mum chose P20, I think, because it was easy; she would apply it first thing, when we got out of bed. I would stand, naked, in front of her and she would apply liberally to every inch of my skin which, in my memory, was brown already (I was a tanned child until I discovered computers). Covered in P20, smelling like the fun of the day ahead already, I would hastily pull on my swimsuit and my sundress and run to the table to eat crusty bread and olive oil, and sliced tomatoes that were the biggest I'd ever seen.
During the day, I'd swim in the children's pool under the watchful eyes of my parents; my sister would be with my cousins, doing grown-up things. (She was 12 and may as well have had a job in an office, she was so incredibly adult to me.)
I've used P20 ever since. Perhaps it's one of those things I've inherited from my parents, like a belief that crying children shouldn't be comforted – you're better off telling them they'll be grand and acting like that graze is NBD, lest they become hysterical – or a penchant for French desserts. (Blame my Mother's stint as an au pair for that one.)
Somehow, though, this choice seems more founded in practicality, in the logic I love to trot out whenever I think I'm losing an argument. Sure, I've tried others – I've spent what feels like hours waiting for thick creams to soak into my skin and I've tried pointlessly to rinse spray sunscreen out of my clothes – but I always come back to my love. (Thanks to Samantha Mumba for that senseless earworm.)
Right now, I'm not in Spain but in Portugal – in Lagos, to be specific – on a week-long weight lifting retreat with Lift Training Studios, because I'm clearly a masochist and no longer have any interest in enjoying life. (I kid, I kid.) Not to sound like an infomercial, but the best choice I've made so far this holiday has been using P20. Apply once a day and then don't worry – about sun, sweat or unseasonal showers (none so far, TG).
Buy P20 Continuous Spray in pharmacies and on Boots.ie. P20.co.uk
This is a sponsored post, in collaboration with P20. I will always disclose if a post is sponsored or contains affiliate links; for more, check out my disclaimer.