Number Two son came round for dinner last night – allowing The Fair Lady Scully to mother him a bit after his crash. He seems fine and cheerful enough. The bike will be back to full fitness before him, but that’s fine. He’s fine.
He just doesn’t look it. His bruises – all down one side – are much worse than they were just after the crash. They look like a photograph of the night sky. Shades of purple with yellow constellations, tiny white unbruised sections like stars. He’s not in pain unless he moves, he says.
Still, at least he didn’t break anything. It could have been so much worse. I’m just glad he’s walking, even if he winces.