Image by Justyna Furmanczyk

I was never a sporty child. I say this with a certain rueful regret, because it was not pre-ordained that I should be a butter-fingered nerd. My genetic pedigree was quite mixed: although my father was definitively bookish and sport-averse (perhaps in part due to his severe short-sightedness), my mother was so good at tennis that she’d once considered [ . . . ]

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