We had already been through several days of what you've just seen, being followed and being intruded upon even at this desperate, desperate time, and very strong in our memory was a story that had happened just a few months, I think, maybe a year before, of when Eric Clapton had lost his child and I remember that child's funeral becoming a press circus, to the extent that we had been told that photographers were sort of leaping over gravestones and trampling other flowers in the cemetery in order to try and get as close as they possibly could to photograph Eric Clapton's child's funeral, and we so desperately didn't want that to happen to us that we thought: "Right, we will sit down and we will write personally to every editor of every national newspaper, begging them to stay away from our child's funeral." And every one of them did, except that on the day of our little boy's funeral -- and this was held at a very remote country church that my parents knew about. It was my parents' sort of family church, but it was well away from London and nobody should have known about it at all. We hadn't told anyone, just a very few closest friends and family came to what was a little boy's funeral. Nobody had even known him except us. There was a photographer on the public highway. He was standing on the road. It was interesting, I think, that he probably made a great point of standing on the road, with a very, very long lens, the sort of lens they only used to use on Princess Diana at the time, and we were aware that he was taking photographs. If you see the front page that followed, again, I think in this instance it speaks much more strongly than anything I come ever say to this Inquiry, that here we were, a young couple at our child's funeral and they took this photograph.