As it happens, Mrs White is not here at the moment. She's in Florence for the afternoon looking at statues.
The kids had the chance to go but Jamie didn't fancy it. Charlotte really didn't fancy it.
It's good here, although at times more than a little surreal. I blame the foreigners.
There are folk from most European countries from what I can tell. That was the point of us coming. We wanted to expose the kids to a bit of shared pre-Brexit culture before we're ripped out of the EU club and forced to talk like Boris Johnson.
And our two are loving it thus far. A big reason is the presence of water slides.
Lots of water slides.
Each making me feel even older than the one before as I land at the bottom in a heap. I've just cut my toe on one. At least that's bought me half an hour of respite to allow the bleeding to stop.
It's also helped me to get over the embarrassment of being told off for having an inflatable in the big pool. I mean, how was I to know? I've not heard that much whistling since David Beckham was sent off for violent conduct in
the 1998 World Cup Finals. I promised not to do it again so have been allowed to stay. For now.
Him and her haven't done any kids' clubs as yet and I doubt they will for the rest of the week. It's a combination of the fun they're having in the pools and the fact they can't be arsed.
I blame the mother for that. Everything else is my fault.
The only mild disappointment to date has been the quality the evening shows. When I say "quality" I actually mean "pure pish."
Last night was Comedy Night, the "highlight" being one the performers pretending to be Ray Charles (who was blind) walking into things before falling in a pool.
I think I'd prefer an hour of Harry Hill doing stand-up. That's how bad it was. Hopefully it was a blip. Plus, we're eating out this evening so Family Games Night isn't a priority.
Anyway, that's what we're up to. I hope the Bank Holiday sun is shining back in Blighty.
I'll try to post some more drivel later in the week.
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