Scenes From a Childhood: Part 1

So I'm about four, and we're trawling through London, my parents and I, through a part I do not know, full of tall, intimidating buildings that do not conform to the scenery I am used to, out in the valleys of Gloucestershire.

My parents are excited, chattering to each other. They are ignoring me much more than I am used to or, indeed, willing to allow. I tug and wail. Hunch obstreperously. Demand things I probably know I'll never get today. It is no use. They pull me good-humouredly into an hotel. All I see is red leather seats, which look comfortable and easy to play on. There is a man waiting in the seats. He is tall and weather-beaten. Looks a little like a crow, or perhaps an eagle. He stands and greets my parents, nods to me. We all sit, and they talk. And talk and talk and talk.

I find the man curious, and interesting. He, however, seems much more interested in talking to my parents. I roil on the red leather seats, grab at things, cast around for people to play with, insist upon attention. It is not given.

For a little while, I sulk. I am four - sulking is natural. The eagle-faced man seems to find this funny. He smiles at me. The lines on his face wrinkle up like new maps made after an earthquake. This infuriates me, so I take the menu and hoist it at him. It catches the man sharply on the nose.My mother wrestles me into submission, her lovely face dark with annoyance, whilst my father keeps talking to the man. I have her attention. I am a happy child again, start chattering cheerfully.

Eventually, the meeting comes to an end. We all stand. The man makes his goodbyes to my parents, then turns to me. He looms over me like a tree in winter, impossibly tall, then stoops. Holds out his hand. Takes mine. Shakes it gently.

Leaning low enough to look me in the eye, Samuel Beckett says in a low, tender voice: "It was very nice to meet you, Adam." I wilt and exalt at the same moment, and do not forget.