The Cherub has always been Mr Sociable. (That would be one thing he's inherited from his father rather than his mother). In the cherub's book if anything's worth doing it's worth doing in company. Even his homework is done with constant phone calls to double check and confer with his mates.

Nothing's changed.

Except we have a problem in that he's not at his dad's at weekends anymore. He's here in CHEESETOWN, when all his pals are in Q'Ferry.

The cherub has, therefore, found his own solution. He imports his pals for sleepovers. We're on his fourth sleep over since his dad died last month. For a decent sleepover you need your pals over by lunchtime on Saturday. You need industrial quantities of pizza, popcorn and FANTA.
Pals will contribute sufficient supplies of chocolate to keep everyone buzzing all through the night.
Activities focus around X Box games. We have such sound politically-incorrect and age-inappropriate games as WWE SMACKDOWN, FIFA 2010, Call of Duty... I know, I know, but we do also have board games and Top Trumps.

Hey it's great therapy.

And here's the news. It is not possible to brood and get maudlin whilst there is an ongoing soundtrack from teenage boys in the next room:
Waark! No! GAYBO's after me
Toss -eh-eh-er
Ah, no man that's SHAN
Come on Toxic! Get him!
Toss -eh-eh-er
No! Nowee!
HAR I Will Prevail! HAR!
Sleepovers also have the great effect of stopping anywhere in the house becoming too, well too shrine like...Straws, bought for W to use when he couldn't raise his head are commandeered for blow football sessions and DRINKS. The iPod docking station W had use of to listen to CDs and radio 4 is taken back and re-tuned.

Even catering is great. I haven't made chocolate croissants since W's last weekend. With a houseful of boys, I've got the energy to do this again.

W would have loved it. He might have been able to get them to settle down before 4am though.