I teach royalty!  Really.  I've actually been teaching him for seven months now but I have just been made aware of who the kid is.  I mentioned the name to GP and his jaw dropped to the floor.  We foreigners don't recognize the names of any of these families.  They are just a bunch of spoiled rich Italians.  There are a lot of students who are driven to school by chauffeurs or who, for safety reasons, have to be dropped off inside our big green iron gates that are locked at 9am sharp.  But this beats the wealthy industrialists kids big time.  The other students couldn't care less and only know who the footballer's children are.  I wouldn't know the footballers if I tripped over one.  Which I probably have...  Anyhow.  So my little prince is from some very old aristocratic family with ties to all the European nobility.  They have vineyards and a villa from the 1300's and dad and Charles are old buds!  Yes, that Charles.  To think I have patted the same sleek blond head that the big "C" has probably patted.  And in fact if I want to go all "seven degrees of separation" I can say that my bum has sat upon the same toilet seat as the kid whose toilet seat at home has possibly been sat upon by Camilla's rosy cheeks!  Maybe I should frame it. (The toilet seat).  Oh the life of a peon!  The kid, by the way, loves me.  He's a glutton for punishment because I'm mean to him.  He's probably so accustomed to everyone fawning and slobbering over him that he likes the challenge.  Had I known who he was I'd probably have fawned and slobbered too.   But now it's too late as we have already established our relationship .  I tell him to go away and he comes back.  I tell him to speak English and he answers me in Italian.  It tell him he's bothering me and he laughs and laughs.  These royals are weird.  Probably too much intermarriage.  xxoo me