Today – I’m writing on August 5 – is the anniversary of the day I contracted polio, in Ermelo on the Highveld of the Eastern Transvaal in South Africa, many years ago. It's a day I remember every year, and this year the number is round enough to raise a glass to, if you’re minded: it’s seventy years since I woke up and discovered I could not walk. This week on the water - dawn on Wednesday 5 August I've written before about what that morning did to me as a writer. It triggered into being a...