Meanwhile, in the day, when the bastard stuff hasn't yet kicked in brain wise, you sit in your dressing gown scrutinizing the amazing activity of your balls, which suddenly become alive with a mind of their own. If you stare at them they shrink like some kind of sea creature, and glance away and they are back having a party. I've never seen anything like it. Eventually, your balls shrink from grapefruit to wallnuts. I don't know where I am with them.
However, put Scott's brilliant drawing framed up on the wall today, and such art brings solace. Something has to.