I first met Patric McCoy in The Market Tavern pub in Vauxhall on the day a Bosnia war protester set himself on fire outside the House of Commons. It was Patric’s photographs of this horrific event that were syndicated around the world on that Wednesday, 28 April 1993. A case of right place, right time.
He beamed at me from the bar as I walked up to him and said, you must be an American. “Guilty,” he replied, laughing, and asked me how I knew. Because we Black Brits don’t smile at strangers, I told him, especially not at each other. We’ve been friends ever since.