Never mind the Balearics

So Jof asked me to look online to see what travel adaptor we needed to power her hairdryer etc. This was the top advert supplied by online retailer Amazon, and, as an 8 year-old boy, it really has what I'm looking for in a travel adaptor.

You get sex toys? I must have the wrong kind of toys. Maybe it's some kind of build-your-own-girlfriend Lego set. Why has nobody told me about this?
Anyway. Following a fried breakfast I tried out the local jam but didn't like the way the French bread kept rolling back up.
Then we re-invented the classic game of: Player 1 (in pool) throws Eleanor Rugby ball to Player 2 (on the side of the pool) who leaps athletically through the air to both catch the ball AND land on the lilo. We took turns to do this with varying degrees of success until the lifeguard told us off.
Walking to the dive centre for 1230 as directed, we were told by the German sub-aqua operatives that the free session was for the over-12s only and the session for little guys like me would be 34 Euros, thank you.
I did a whole bunch more handstands in the top Egyptian pool to compensate. Later we returned to the Prussian PADI instructors. The nice leader-man looked like the chap that came back from the dead at the end of Die Hard and he showed me all the kit and fitted me for a mask etc.
The only other kids in 'Bubblemakers' were 3 Germans but I didn't mind, I never speak to people my own age anyway. We trooped off to the lock-up under the restaurant and we all got dressed as Frogmen. Hans had to carry my airtank.
We entered the long swimming pool to the annoyance of some northern parents and played underwater Frisbee and pootled up and down very successfully doing hand signals etc.
Then right at the end I started hyperventilating and had a panic attack which warranted an emergency ascent (from a depth of 3 feet).
I calmed down with Jof and sadly forfeited my chance to descend to 3 metres in the sea. The dive instructor said continue snorkelling and try again in a couple of years.
Jof bought me a blow-up dinghy and a third watergun and we messed about in pools various. We're getting the hang of supper and tonight it was salmon. OK, 173 other things besides, but the salmon-oil-salt was top of the list.
During each holiday, one must sample and purchase a bottle of the local speciality drink. In Sicily it was 'Fuoco dell'Etna' and 'Fuoco Dell'Vulcano', 2 red spirits of unreasonable alcoholic percentage, 50-70%. The Mallorcan one is 'Tunel' (from which no doubt you get Tunel vision): we shall buy some in the shop for the PiddleDaddies. It is green and aniseedy.
I had so much pasta and chips I couldn't fit in any pudding apart from where Jof got watermelon and ice cream chocolate cake and I stole it from her.
Jof had the rather good idea of re-stacking the deckchairs from where pool-cleaning man had spread them out and making ourselves a 7-foot sofa right on the terrace facing the stage.
I sat in my traditional centre-stage position  and watched 'Legends' which was the same 4 dancers doing Presley, Monroe, James Brown, Queen, Guns'n'Roses, Tina Turner, Michael Jackson, Beatles and others in a brightly coloured extravaganza and then I sat with the old people in their balcony position with the much better view.
When it was all over we noticed that some beach recliners/sunbeds already had towels on, 4 in a line, all Teutonic. We moved them all, some further along, some down to the lower level. I mean, they were reserving them for a day that hadn't even started.
We saw the super-moon (not a frisky Fraulein with exposed bottie but our one natural satellite) but it was a bit cloudy. Bed 1130.