Picked the g'son up last night after an away match in Perth (two hour drive away, luckily in a luxury coach with films) When we got home there was the ritualistic counting of bruises and recounting of injuries suffered by others (the worst this time was a dislocated thumb - ouch!!) I got out the arnica, ran a bath, fed soup and sandwiches and fell into bed as exhausted as the warrior. All teams lost yesterday to a fiendishly good school but as they won their last match we weren't feeling too downcast...

My last thought as I slid into oblivion was 'Thank whoever and whatever should be thanked that this child is now a normal boy again who can take a few knocks and still come up cheerful.' Such a difference to this time last year.