Up very late indeed, got to breakfast near closing time. Nestled next to the cereals and cheeses was a large iced bowl of Boibo. This is the local Prosecco equivalent that we call Boyband. And we were there late enough to see someone having Boyband for breakfast. At the bottom of the long spiral staircase a fat woman had fallen down and broken her leg. The nearest staff to help her were the official photographers, one of whom had a broken arm in a cast.
Jof wanted some quiet time so she went to the adults-only pool where it was empty, quiet, civilized, luxurious and totally devoid of little running screaming brats going "Maman Maman, j'ai mangé un Euro" or "Mutti Mutti, ich habe sheiße in meine bikini" or "Mummy Mummy, why can't I have more chocolate cake".
Us chaps therefore went to the souvenir shops but it seems that once you've bought the egg cup and the shirt, you don't really need anything else. So we hit the waterpark for the last time and went on the waterslides over a dozen times each trying to surf as far as possible on the downspout. I have the unique talent of being able to exit the severe-level watertube at walking pace. In the afternoon we donated the doughnut to a deserving couple and swapped parenting duties: Jof sunned while Bud snorkelled to Cala Anguila.
But the single data point that dominated our entire day was finding out that our airport transfer bus leaves at 0530 tomorrow. This put the kybosh on an extended rum-and-wine fuelled evening entertainment so we had a normal supper in which I closely examined everything on the buffet and came back with pasta and chips, and we found a table by the local pool and the ents began.
We believe that a large load of Germans arrived today because the stage was set for a mass introduction of the fitness team and the childminder team and the helpers were posted everywhere through the crowd, encouraging the Herrenvolk.
The music and dance did start but when a nice lady asked us if we had a spare chair, we gave her the whole table and went off to do a final pack and bed. During the evening Jof had been to the shop and bought a Sangria bottle replete with its own hat and castanets. My nose is peeling, as is Jof's back.