Good Friday, 1979. I was at home, doing my ironing when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and another lad that worked for The Messenger appeared at the door, flustered and annoyed. "What are you doing?" he barked. "My ironing!" I replied, accurate and concise as ever! (I should remind you that this was back in the dark and dingy days of the seventies, and I did not possess a phone) "But you're supposed to be at work.." he gasped. "Work?.." I wheezed "But it's a Bank Holiday!"...
And thus it came to pass that, at aged 19, Martin learnt that as a Press Photographer he would never, ever have a day off again!
Amen!
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