Headfirst, sometimes sideways, I was swept down a treacherous, rain-swollen river

'Father of three drowns in Welsh holiday tragedy'. This was the news-in-brief headline you nearly read last week. The father in question would have been me. Like all such incidents it came completely out of the blue. This is a thing I've noticed: you never wake up that morning with a spooky feeling of impending doom. One minute you're carrying on as most of us do: as if we're immortal or, at the very least, guaranteed to live to a very ripe old age. And the next: 'Whooah! If it isn't the Grim Re