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On Friday the thirteenth in 1957 I became a polio suspect. I was soon on my way to the isolation hospital, which was right opposite the London Head firm with whom I had been employed as an industrial engineer. When my breathing weakened rapidly, the diagnosis of polio was confirmed.

I was then smartly whisked away to the nearest respiratory polio unit, Rush Green Hospital, Romford, and popped into an iron lung. Time went by and, after six months in the lung, things looked pretty permanent. Then I learned frog-breathing. It was the hardest work I had ever done, but it meant some freedom from the lung.

I still had to have mechanical aid to breathe throughout the night and most of the day, but it was in the form of the Tunnicliffe breathing jacket that allowed me to sit up in a normal bed. Being a very practical man I soon began to make use of the only moving part left, my head, I mean the outside of my head as well as the inside.

I dressed up in an ear, nose and throat specialist's headband, with a sixteen-inch metal rod projecting forward like a unicorn's horn, to which I attached paint brushes. Propped up in bed with an easel in front of me and with some paints within reach, I once more made my mark in the world. And so it went for another year, painting a lot of pictures and having them noticed.

I had come to terms with the new world in which I lived. I was not ill any more but I was still helpless. The challenge had begun. I had been given life again and I was going to live it. Being just 25, I still had a lot of things to do.

I was now able to stay out of my breathing device for two and a half hours, and had been in hospital eighteen months. For a polio patient whose breath of life depended on a machine, the dream of going home was as hopeful as a dream of winning the pools. The risk was too big with electric power cuts and a host of other hazards to be faced.

But my wife, Doreen, is both devoted to me and has a practical turn of mind, so she and I talked it over. Then we talked to my doctor on the ward who in turn discussed it with the superintendent who decided to give it a trial. A fifteen-amp socket was installed into which my machine could be plugged. I also got batteries to drive a small D.C. electric motor which would run my machine for five hours, then we could call the police or fire-brigade for more batteries. A phone was rigged for emergencies. A home help was hired to help my wife, who already had to look after our two small children, Leonard and Josephine. The district nurse arranged to call on me each morning. The date was set, and home I came. That was in December l958.

Some called me brave and some mad, to take such a risk. But after a time things worked out and I got to know the outside world again. Then nature had its way and my wife became pregnant. We had a beautiful baby girl, of whom I am very proud indeed -- Shirley Jane.

Two of my first interests after the illness were the television and the radio. I must say they still are. I have to keep up to date with the cowboys and Huckleberry Hound, who are great favourites with my children as well as with me. I enjoy reading, with my son turning the pages for me, and I like music -- anything jazzy like rock 'n' roll.

My latest and prized possession is an electric typewriter. I type by using the painting headband and a rubber cork on the end of the wand with which to press the keys. As for my paintings, I now use oils, and paint on canvas. It was by selling them that I was able to buy my typewriter. Second-hand, of course, but quite serviceable. Now that I can write under my own steam, I would like to find pen friends. I am sure I can find plenty to talk about as my interests are wide.

Last fall I started taking English lessons four afternoons a week. It is being paid for by the local County Council who have said that a home teacher may call on me as long as he thinks necessary. The teacher is a retired man who has taught for 50 years in a good School and he is so very interesting. The hoped-for outcome is that I shall be able to write short stories for children's magazines. I have already written two and we are hopefully plugging them with the publishers.

We moved into a larger house that has more ground-floor space and a much better view from my window because in August 1961 we had another baby, or rather my wonderful wife, Doreen, did. It was another girl -- Janet Dawn. I went back to the polio centre for the month of August, and I saw all my old friends while Doreen had the babe. I often look upon our two post-polio babies as wonders of God worked through science, and joke to my friends that they were born on borrowed time.

Two of the pictures are of Doreen and the children down at the coast. The children are real water babies. They love to stand and let the waves knock them over. Doreen rents a bungalow on the seafront every year for a week, while I go back to the hospital. Then, I hear the works when they get back.