BY STEWART SLATER Born in the tropics, my son spent his early months in a sawn-off baby-grow (think sleeveless fencing jacket or what I believe is called a “body”). One day, as his first birthday approached, his mother decided that he would go to Sunday Brunch in trousers and a shirt. It was impossible, as he sat at the table, merrily munching away not to … Continue reading Going Through the Motions