I had a vague memory of a man with fluffy white hair singing to me. My parents could never work out who he was, until the day someone sent them a tape of my grandfather preaching a message (he was a nonconformist minister) and I went into the room while they were listening to it and said 'that's the man who used to sing to me'. They were absolutely staggered as he died when I was about a year old, so they'd always assumed I would have no memory of him. It made a real impact on me, because I think we probably all have memories from this age, but don't realise we do - because unless someone dies when you are tiny, you don't know if your memory of them is from 1 year old, 2 year old or 3 year old.