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A paraplegic man with polio who spent hours of his childhood in a hole in the ground in Mumbai, as his mother believed blood flow to his legs may cure the disease, and was “carried everywhere” until the age of 14, has said “you should never give up” as he defied the odds to become a professional wheelchair sportsman and father a child in his 50s. Jignesh (Jig) Vaidya, 52, who was born in Mumbai, India, but now lives in Leicester, contracted polio aged two as he was not “vaccinated at the right time” because his family could not afford it. This resulted in him being paralysed from the waist down, and he was hospitalised for at least six months at the age of four, with his legs in plaster to keep them straight. After this, Jignesh’s doctor said “there’s nothing we can do”, and since his family could not afford a wheelchair or further treatment, and his access to education was limited due to his disability, he remained at home for several years, with his mother Nirmala, now 83, “doing everything for him” – washing, feeding, changing and carrying him. Defying his difficult beginnings, Jignesh has spent his life moving across the world, becoming a professional wheelchair basketball player and enjoying a successful career, currently working as a project assistant at Maximus UK and broadcast assistant at the BBC, all before the birth of his now 20-month-old son, Jesse. He has not forgotten where his life began, however, and told PA Real Life: “As an Indian remedy, (my mother) dug a hole outside our house in the sun and put my whole body in it for six hours every day, neck down, in 30-degree heat. “She put really heavy bangles on both my legs and asked me to sit on the wall for three, four hours a day, dangling them, as she thought, ‘Jignesh will walk one day’.” Jignesh said his mother believed in Indian medication and thought the blood flow may help to cure his polio – a serious infection caused by a virus – but Jignesh described it as “hell”. From that point on, he thought, “this is going to be my life, this is it for me, it’s not going to get any better”. “I thought, ‘I’m going to be a loser – I hate to say that word – I’m not going to have any friends, and I’m going to be asking people for help all my life’,” he added. At the age of 14, Jignesh was given a wheelchair after his community rallied to raise some funds and he was finally able to go to school. He said he had to “catch up to the people who were ahead of (him)”, but he loved having some independence and no longer having to be carried by his family or others. He experienced a major setback when he moved to Dubai at 16, as he gave up his wheelchair to support another young boy with polio in Mumbai, and this left him in a dark place, mentally, as he had no “freedom”. Since then, however, he has moved to Leicester, received an “amazing education”, competed as a professional wheelchair basketball player, skydived, and fathered a son called Jesse, despite doctors saying this would not be possible. Jignesh said: “You should never give up in this life, and don’t be afraid to open up and ask for help. “Do what you’re best at and, if you work at something every day, whatever your goal is in life, you will get there. “It may take some time, maybe even years – it took me until the age of 20 to learn how to write my name in English – but I didn’t give up and look at me now.” From the age of 14, when Jignesh received his first wheelchair in Mumbai, he said he started to “flourish” and enjoyed going to school. However, he was subjected to discriminatory comments by his teachers, with one saying: “He’s handicapped, he can’t go at the front, put him in the back.” Since Jignesh’s late father Laxmikant, 66, was working in Dubai at the time, he ended up moving out there for two years at the age of 16 – but because his family could not afford to send him to school and he no longer had his wheelchair, he said he spent two years “looking out the window, watching people go by”. He said “there was nothing for (him)”, apart from a taxi ride once a month, and this significantly impacted his mental health, as he felt this had reversed all the progress he had made. “There was one point in my life, in those two years, where I was going to dark places and crying all the time,” he said. “I thought, ‘If mum’s not here, I could jump out the window and nobody will know. I can end it’, because I thought, ‘This is it, I can’t go back to what I had, I’m stuck’.” After his father earned enough money from those two years in Dubai, he and his family moved to the UK in 1988, when he was 18, and this is when everything changed. He received a new wheelchair in March 1989, aged 19, and started full-time education in September 1990, aged 20, where he learned English, maths, and how to use computers – and given he had impressive upper body strength and speed, he started playing sports as well, including wheelchair hockey and basketball. “I was a coloured person, a new arrival, couldn’t speak the language, and yet I was treated like everyone else,” he said. “I just thought, ‘Wow, I’m a part of society, I’m not being treated like a dog, like I was in Mumbai’, and if an opportunity comes in, I will take it, as there’s no going back. “When I started playing sports, I knew there and then that this is it, this is my life, this is my path.” Jignesh has since gone on to compete as a professional wheelchair basketball player internationally in places such as France, play for teams including MK Aces Wheelchair Basketball Club and Leicester Cobras, coach at the Coventry Crusaders club, skydive, and father Jesse with his partner Julie, 40, a teacher – confounding doctors. He goes to his local Nuffield Health gym every day, completing workouts and classes which have been adapted for him, and this helps to slow the progression of his polio as muscle weakness can increase over time. He “cherishes” being able to work with the “amazing” staff, including his personal trainer Matthew Molloy, in an inclusive environment where he is part of a team, supported, and everyone can “flourish”. Looking back, Jignesh realises why his mother, who he now cares for, would say, “everything happens for a reason”, and he is extremely grateful for his family’s love and support. He is excited to watch Jesse grow up, and he wants to continue encouraging disabled people to stay active, fight for their rights, and “never give up”. “I never thought that when I was in that hole, or when I was in Dubai and had nothing, that I’d be where I am today,” he said. “Sometimes, when I’m driving, I think, ‘This could be a movie; I’m going to wake up and be back in Mumbai’, so every day now, I pray and say, ‘Thank you’.” To find out more about Nuffield Health, visit: nuffieldhealth.com Read More Trypophobia: ‘Mushrooms, Beanie Babies and Doja Cat - I lived in fear for 30 years’ Lucozade addict drinks eight bottles a day and says it’s harder to quit than class-A drugs Charity boss speaks out over ‘traumatic’ encounter with royal aide Ukraine war’s heaviest fight rages in east - follow live

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In Cartmel, a picture-postcard Cumbrian village on the cusp of the Lake District, chefs in their whites are scurrying across the cobbled streets like an army of well-dressed worker ants. Some are heaving wheelbarrows stacked with mounds of freshly picked vegetables, still earthy from the farm; others are dashing from one building to another, precariously balancing enormous stacks of clean pans. They all have one thing in common: they work for Simon Rogan. If they’re the workers, he’s the queen. This well-rehearsed choreography is a typical sight every morning in Cartmel, where the Michelin-starred chef – one of only eight to own a three-starred restaurant in the UK – set up shop 20 years ago. After a decade of working at various levels in restaurants around the country (including a placement under Marco Pierre White and two years at the three-star Lucas Carton in Paris), Rogan was keen to open his own restaurant. Priced out of Hampshire and Sussex, he looked further afield and found a rundown 800-year-old former smithy in Cartmel available to rent. “I didn’t come here for anything as glamorous as the area or the scenery or the people,” he tells me, having just taken me on a tour of said area to meet said people. “It was just for this building. I was desperate for my own restaurant. I felt like I had never really achieved the things that I’d wanted to working for other people. I wanted to make my own mistakes and be in control of our own destiny. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true.” He made an offer on his way back from his first visit to the area, and L’Enclume was born. “Once you realise where you are, you think: s***, this is beautiful,” he adds, laughing. Over the next two decades, the ambitious chef transformed the Cumbrian village into a culinary destination unlike anywhere else in the UK. It’s now home to not only L’Enclume – awarded the environmental green star in 2021 and the coveted third star in last year’s Michelin Guide – but also the one-starred neighbourhood eatery Rogan & Co, and Aulis, L’Enclume’s six-seater chef’s table behind the main restaurant. He also put his name to Henrock, a more informal and relaxed offering just a half hour’s drive away at Linthwaite House, overlooking Lake Windermere. The engine behind this mini empire, and the reason I’m here, is Our Farm, a 12-acre plot in Cartmel that supplies the majority of the restaurants’ ingredients. A sustainable, closed-loop growing operation had always been “at the back of his mind”, Rogan says. He was inspired by his father, a fruit and vegetable salesman who would bring home a box of the day’s best produce, teaching him the importance of using every part of the ingredient. When they arrived in Cartmel to get started, though, “the standard of produce”, Rogan says “was absolutely rubbish. The reason we got into farming was my frustration at the ability to buy a perfect radish, which is the easiest thing in the world to grow.” They rented a small plot close to the restaurant, and filled in the gaps with local suppliers. But, back in 2002, it was too expensive to buy organic. “Things were triple the price they are now,” Rogan tells me, taking a sip of his beetroot juice at the Aulis counter. “So we bought little bits and pieces here and there alongside the normal suppliers. Then we had the opportunity to take over the farm. That’s when we thought: ‘Right, let’s start growing radishes.’” What started as a little garden has become something bigger than he could ever have anticipated. A restaurant growing its own produce is not a groundbreaking concept, but a kitchen garden this is not. You won’t find pristine beds and trimmed rose bushes and arty ornaments. But you will find a patchwork of muddy fields growing hardy vegetables, the topsoil painstakingly “fluffed” by hand; a regiment of polytunnels housing the more finicky plants, delicate micro herbs and other culinary experiments (I try something that tastes like pickled onion Monster Munch); and enormous hand-rotated compost bins that process all the food waste from the restaurants into mulch for the farm. All this is surrounded by hedgerows that have been carefully curated to attract birds and other wildlife to act as natural pesticides. None of this would be possible without head farmer John Rowland. Regenerative agriculture might be his trade, but birds are his true passion. During a tour of the farm, he lists off the species he’s seen circling overhead, drawn by the blackthorn, hawthorn, rowan and birch trees he’s been planting on the borders. “We cater for the birds more than the people,” he tells me, in a Welsh accent so bucolic I wonder whether he’s been shipped in specifically for the tour. “Everything on the farm has a use, and not only in a culinary way. The seeds and the berries attract the birds onto the farm. The birds are my pest control, so the more I can attract to the farm, the more pest control I have, and that is fantastic for birdlife. In Britain, we’ve lost 84 per cent of our bird species, but this area is really rich because of these techniques.” While he might prefer looking upwards, it’s what’s beneath our feet that Rowland is really focused on. “The life is in the soil,” he says, grabbing a great fistful of the stuff. “You have hundreds of types of fungus right here. We don’t want to disturb that biome in the ground so rather than rotavating the soil [breaking up the earth with a machine ready for planting] and destroying the millions of organisms that live in it, we build a six-inch layer of compost on top and aerate it with a fork. Once you’ve done that, each year you just top it off with an inch, and that’s regenerative farming,” he says matter-of-factly, clapping the dirt from his hands. Well, that’s the gist anyway, and while it’s perhaps a little more complicated than that, Rowland struggles to understand why more people aren’t farming in this way. “We’re the most nature-depleted country in the world. We’ve lost our wildflower meadows, we’ve lost our insect population, we’ve lost our wild songbird population. They’ve taken the hedgerows away to make the fields bigger. All the natural food in our countryside is being lost to intensive farming.” Regenerative techniques like those Rowland is putting into practice on Our Farm would go some way to reclaiming it, he says, but “it’s a shame that they don’t realise that”. He pauses for a moment, then corrects himself: “Well, it’s not that they don’t realise it. They know. It’s just that they want intensive farming because it makes them money and it’s wrong because we are killing everything.” How this translates to the table at L’Enclume is manifold. Every dish on the menu begins life on the farm, where Rowland will flag what’s in season and at its best, or suggest something new he’s been experimenting with. Or it might start as an ingredient foraged from the countryside or sourced from a local supplier. The idea is then tweaked in the development kitchen at Aulis, before it finally makes its way to the pass at L’Enclume. This results in a transient snapshot of Cumbrian cuisine that changes every time you dine, and a menu quite unlike anything else I’ve come across. When I visit in February, Boltardy beetroot – a variety chosen for its resistance to erratic weather – shines in a bitesize tart with smoked pike-perch fished locally, and perilla, a Southeast Asian herb cultivated on the farm that adds notes of mint and licorice. Elsewhere, there’s lovage and rose hip and lemon thyme, all foraged; there’s Cornish cod and Mylor prawns and potted shrimp and Maldon oysters; sweetcorn and champagne rhubarb from the farm that were fermented after they were harvested last summer so they could be used year-round; and an enormous selection of British cheeses, including Tunworth, which is frozen and crumbled in a palate-perplexing, salty-sweet dessert. It happens to be my favourite dish. Managing a farm-to-fork operation this complex, not to mention the empire, is no mean feat. “I could pretty confidently be a tax exile given how little I am in the UK at the moment,” he jokes. When we chatted in February, the team was preparing to revive their pre-Covid plan for a five-week residency in Sydney, which concluded this month. The punchline, of course, is the delay meant Aussies were given a taste of not a two-star L’Enclume, but all four stars. Given Australia is yet to receive a Michelin Guide and is not particularly well known for its agricultural sustainability, it was an interesting move, but one there is clearly appetite for. Despite the $420-a-head price tag, it was sold out, serving more than 4,000 diners. While the food at L’Enclume, at home and abroad, is clearly special, it’s the people that set it apart from other restaurants in this league. Their hospitality, affability and, perhaps most noticeably, northern accents, are not typically what you find at this price bracket (£250 a head for the tasting menu, plus £100-£290 for a pairing). Stuffiness is neither present nor tolerated. Many of the staff have been with Rogan since the beginning, switched between the restaurants, or left for pastures new only to return. “We get a lot of people coming back – only the ones we want, anyway,” he says slyly. There’s certainly been a few famous quarrels. The “Rogan alumni” is a term thrown around a lot during my visit, and includes Mark Birchall, who was executive chef at L’Enclume during its two-star era before setting up a curiously similar “restaurant with rooms”, Moor Hall, in Lancashire, which also boasts two stars and a further green. Then there’s Dan Cox, who cut his teeth at Rogan’s now-closed Fera in Claridges as well as L’Enclume, and helped him set up Our Farm in the early days. He’s now down in Cornwall, running the farm-to-table Crocadon. But, generally, people are drawn back to L’Enclume for the variety it has to offer. “Look around the country,” says Rogan, “and [other restaurants] haven’t got any staff because they can’t offer as many career progression opportunities for people. I suppose that makes them lucky. “It’s about not spreading yourself too thin. We’re only able to do these things because these guys are really, really hungry.” Acknowledging that hunger, he established the Simon Rogan Academy in 2021 to “nurture aspiring chefs”. It includes paid work across the Cartmel restaurants, and culminates in a week-long placement at his restaurant Roganic in Hong Kong. In the beginning, “we thought that maybe if we had just a third of them left at the end of the quarter, it’d be brilliant,” Rogan tells me. “But almost all of them stayed on! And now they all want jobs” – he comically rolls his eyes – “but really it’s great.” As I drift between the farm and the Cartmel restaurants, everyone hard at work but always smiling, it strikes me that L’Enclume isn’t just a restaurant; it’s a story. And its influence is immense. “Sustainability”, “farm-to-table” and “regenerative agriculture” were mere whisperings 20 years ago. Now they’re affixed to almost every new menu, and you could say they were born here. The people I’ve met could well be the next batch of Rogan alumni, attracting Michelin’s attention with their own restaurants in years to come. If it takes 20 years to craft a legacy like this, then I’ll make sure I come back in 2043. For more information about L’Enclume, visit www.lenclume.co.uk and for more information about Simon Rogan and his other restaurants visit www.simonrogan.co.uk Read More Why I won’t be doing Veganuary this year – or ever again Marina O’Loughlin is wrong – there’s joy in solo dining Michel Roux Jr announces closure of renowned restaurant Le Gavroche to have ‘better work/life balance’ The true story – and murky history – of Portuguese piri piri oil 30-minute summer recipes for all the family to enjoy What to cook this week: Tomato tart, sweetcorn pasta and other summery suppers

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