Sitting down with my brother David, then six, I watched him colour in a picture with his hands, while I used my feet.
‘Why was I born without arms?’ I asked my mum.
‘When God takes something, he gives you something in return,’ she told me.
I was seven, and at birth I’d been diagnosed with a rare defect called phocomelia. It pencil and write my name, twirling my pasta with a fork and opening bottles –all with my feet – was just the start. And each