Not a quiet Sunday morning

Large numbers of boys from around 7 to around 10 are tearing through the house causing havoc and doing excellent locust impressions.

I need to work on the provision of really cheap treats.

I also need to work out how to keep a tenuous supervision ('I don't care what you are allowed to click on at home...') and still get stuff done that I need to do.

Also, bear is doing spoiled brat impressions and I need to work on that.  He is very privileged compared to the visitors, and I need to try and get through to him about that.

I am also finding it odd without father still.  I am very aware that lots of people are in a far worse state, including Morgan.  Father is still with us and I am still getting the Daily Mail codes for points which will buy Christmas dinner, and I am grateful, but this morning I tipped a bottle of rum down the sink.  It was supposed to be spiced rum, but it was an unfamiliar brand and it tasted so foul that I couldn't manage more than a mouthful.  I have no idea where the bottle of Paragayo rum came from, and I am very aware that fake or under the counter spirits can be very dangerous.  I suppose I could have saved it to clean windows as it tasted of antiseptic, but I just want the space.  Father would never have allowed me to pour drink away.  It was actually quite a sad moment.  On the bright side, the drains are probably in a better state from it.

There has just been a very large crash upstairs.  I daren't look.