Good morning from that Spain (I can´t add a photo so you´ll just have to believe me).
Yes, the sun is blazing down outside, cracking the foreign name for kerbstones. But, like any true Ulsterman, I´m safely under cover trying not to crisp up.
We Whites are in Menorca until Saturday and thus far it´s been fun and certainly eventful.
Both Jamie and I have already had turns on the open-air "performance stage;" Jamie to receive a certificate for winning a competition (more on that when I get back including video footage) and me to lose a quiz to a couple of fat birds.
That was on Saturday. Last night it chucked it down and we came inside to watch Shrek dance (to be fair, he does move well for a big...er...ogre).
As I churn out this guff, Vanessa is tanning herself, Jamie is on a beastie hunt and Charlotte is trying to set a new record for the loudest scream in a Spanish creche. (We´ve paid, so she´s going).
Later, Jamie has a swimming lesson and Vanessa has some shopping planned. I don´t.
The most noteworthy aspect of the holiday thus far is the ever present ability to kill yourself. That´s right, we´ve gone all-inclusive. Seriously, I´ve never seen anything like it. From 8am until midnight, you can eat as much unhealthy food and drink as much unhealthy alcohol as you like. And all the señors and señoritas say to you is "more, sir?" You even get to pour the wine and beer yourself. Last night I had a Malibu and pineapple juice. And why? Because I could. (I won´t do so again, mind).
If I don´t die in the next couple of days, I´ll come back and give you an update. And if I do, at least you´ll know I´ve gone out on a high.
Adios (possibly).
