I remember spending many of those first nights as we tried to sleep speculating about what kind of man this was.

I can remember spending a summer holiday writing a computer puzzle to rival Tetris, aged about14.

We got out and knocked on the big wooden doors that I remembered spending a day kicking open for the cameras.

I remember spending much of that July tweezing splinters from the children.

But in the interim, he remembers spending a night behind bars.

After his mother died he could remember spending his days in a dozen different homes.

Indeed, I cannot remember ever spending a better time bathing: the air was crisp and clean, the day fresh as the first day of creation.

He remembers spending the afternoon crying and cursing after the classic small white envelope arrived with the bad news.

And he remembers spending 13 games in the minors last season.

A child of poverty might remember spending the same afternoon playing in a steamy street or vacant lot.