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   My parents always insisted that I shouldn’t learn to read until I got to school so that I wouldn’t be bored in the first year. That’s why I always had lots of picture books. I am still a fan of Wilhelm Busch, which no one here in England can understand.

   I have a very fond memory of the first lesson that my teacher Grünebaum gave me. I have always been grateful to him that at last I could learn to read. He said, right, I will tell you all a story. There was once a boy. And he drew on the blackboard and there was a boy who was hungry. So he opened his mouth wide and then his mother shoved a piece of cake in his mouth. And that is how I knew what an A looked like. And it was the same thing with B. That was really lovely.
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