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I can't remember what my expectations were – I was 16 at the time. It took place on 9 October 1992, John Lennon's 52nd birthday. There was a private view of a new exhibition of Linda McCartney's photographs, and the launch of her book Sixties, at the Royal Photographic Society in my old hometown Bath. I can't remember how I got a ticket – I think a friend of the family was a member of the society and didn't want to go, weirdly.

There were rumours that Paul and Linda would turn up, and loads of people waited outside for then to arrive, kept back by barriers. When they did arrive I was already inside. People in the private view were watching them as they entered, but nobody bothered them too much.

I'd already bought a copy of the book, and, being a fearless 16-year-old I bowled up to Paul with it held open and asked him to sign it. He did, and Linda did after too.

Those were the first autographs they signed inside the exhibition, and it opened the floodgates for everyone else. Paul and Linda walked around the exhibition, crowded by people. About 40 minutes later I managed to get near to Paul again and asked him to sign my Sgt Pepper inlay. "Haven't I already signed something for you?" he asked, but did it anyway – good man.

I remember I asked Linda to add a date below her signature. "Can't you do it yourself?" she said. I explained that it was Lennon's birthday and it would mean a lot to me, and so she did. I even called her Mrs McCartney to be polite, which looking back seems rather sweet.

I also chatted to a local newspaper reporter, who put a quote from me into his report. I might have the cutting somewhere.