The woman in front us at the pool has been telling the woman beside her, in graphic detail about the birth of her two children.
They've only just met, yet for some strange reason she feels the need to share the entire experience.
"Ruby was 9lb 13oz, Arthur was 14lb. I was in bits," she confides to the whole pool. By the time she finished regaling us with all the gory details, I felt like I was actually at the births myself. She put on four and a half stone, you know. We receive this news a bit dubiously. She's as thin as a whippet, not a trace of any post baby blubber to be seen in her white thong bikini.
Meanwhile, Himself is preoccupied with two dolly birds on who are topless and have the worst boob jobs I've ever seen.
"Are they real?" He whispers to me. "About as real as my hair is naturally blonde," I reply glancing over as the two in question parade up and down the full length of the pool, every male eye in the place glued to them. Himself is fascinated by the fact they don't wobble or bounce. "They just kind of sit there. Like cones" he says after further examination.
Oh the joys of a package holiday. While it is heaven to have someone come in and clean up every day and give us clean towels and fresh sheets, the battle for the sunbeds has left me exhausted. The sunbed bandits must be setting their alarms for dawn because no matter how early I get down in the morning, there's not a lounger to be had.
Do they really need a bed for each of their five children who never sit on them and spend the entire day in the pool?? No they bloody well don't. And we can't blame the Germans this time because there aren't any here.
It's English, Irish and Scottish. I personally blame the Scots. The Irish are too lazy to get up that early, the English spend most of their time playing pool in the bar so it has to be the Scots. And before anyone gets up on their racist high horse - that is fact.
In other news I managed to pack 10 pairs of shoes for myself and no underwear for the teenager. I suggested he go commando but he was having none of it so we traipsed up to the Chinese supermarket to buy four horrendous nylon pairs of jocks in luminous green, pink, orange and yellow.
Himself appears to be having a run of bad luck too. On the first night he lost half a tooth in a game of Truth or Dare when we dared him to eat an olive. Being a strict carnivore, he bit straight in and roared "you never told me there was a nut in the middle" before spitting half his tooth into his hand. Surely everyone knows olives have stones?!
Then last night during a moonlit walk he insisted upon he had been on the foot by a spider. At first he thought it was a scorpion then some deadly poisonous spider but when he was able to finish his beer we reckoned he may have exaggerated.
I keep telling him some day we'll look back on this and laugh. He's not convinced!