One day a number of years ago, I was deep into a game of draughts on holiday with my daughter, then almost four, in the small library of a beachfront town. Her eye drifted to a nearby table, where a black-and-white board bristled with far more interesting figures – many a future chess master has been innocently drawn in by “horses” and “castles”.
“What’s that?” she asked. “Chess,” I replied.
“Can we play?” she pleaded.