Between the hours of 6-8 and 4-8 my house sounds like a roller disco in about 1982. I can practically smell the Brut and Babycham.
He's mercifully keeping the interest to his own room, so it's only a faint sound (so more like the sound of nipping round the back for a snog and a ciggie than hurtling round the floor in a rara skirt). But I'm a light sleeper and was this morning awoken at 6.02 by Ra Ra Rasputin.
Oh, how I yearn for the silent days when he was busy creating a complex taxonomy of Daleks.
Please send support, sympathy and ear plugs!