British Grand Prix

Silverstone, British Grand Prix last week - and I was there! It was a joyous and really memorable occasion for me and my brother on a boys day out. The senses came alive to the roar and scream of the engines, the masses of excited people and the glaring heat. We had a terrific grandstand view and there was so much going on it was dizzying to take it all in. 

And what caught my attention - in a way - had nothing to do with the race. It was a young man in a wheelchair at the front of the stand. Dressed in white vest and shorts, his left arm was missing from the shoulder, his right lower leg was missing below the knee and he was covered in scars. He must have been no more than 20, had a perfect face; untouched by violence, close-cropped hair, and the brightest smile - the brightest smile you could ever wish for - the untroubled smile of a young man really enjoying himself. He was completely relaxed, wheeling back and forth to chat to his friends having fun and crossing his legs to stretch out on the barrier - absolutely no sense of shame, embarrassment, awkwardness, insecurity or anything, just really together within himself and almost balletic in his poise. 

I told myself he must be a soldier - one of many injured in this way. The thing is, he was getting on with his life and he was fully appreciating every moment of it. I was moved to tears hidden and enveloped by the crowd. I will never forget him and I am so grateful to have witnessed this passing moment.