When I was 9 years old, I knew that I was going to be a brain surgeon. My father had a colleague and friend, Bruno, in this profession whom he clearly admired and respected. It seemed evident, therefore, that by becoming like Bruno I would gain my father’s approval. At 11 I was going to be an eye specialist, because there was another friend of my father’s who was then frequenting our home. My father spoke very highly of Max who was a hospital consultant, and it seemed sensible therefore to change my future profession, although this did not have the same appeal as brain surgery. Perhaps it was just as well that this phase did not last, because Max committed suicide together with his wife when the Nazis came to power in Germany, and he was no longer allowed to carry on practising. Max’s suicide hit my father very hard. He was a friend and a colleague and in a very similar position to that of my father.