I met my friend Christine (next to me in the photograph) on a Page & Moy trip to the Italian Grand Prix at Monza in 1992. We immediately hit it off and even though she lived in Middlesbrough and me in Essex; we often met up for a long weekend to plan which race we would attend to support Ayrton. I had been able to introduce her to Ayrton at the Portuguese Grand Prix at Estoril the year before.
As you can imagine we were absolutely devastated to lose him, and I can’t describe the heartbreak and numb shock we were feeling. We decided to still go to Monaco as our way of paying respect. We booked an apartment in Menton for five days. On our flight to Nice, Johnny Herbert and Derek Warwick were sitting in front of us in First Class, separated by a flimsy curtain We were wearing Senna shirts and both men were extraordinarily kind to us, saying how sad they felt and giving us a hug. They kept pulling the curtain back and jesting with us over their meal on board and ours and swapping bits of food with us. We all got told off by the cabin crew.
The atmosphere at the track was one of complete shock and disbelief. The whole weekend had an air of total sadness. The suite with the balcony that Ayrton rented every time for his family and friends at the race every year was closed and shuttered out of respect. Such a contrast from previous years when it would be draped in Brazilian flags, and Senna’s family and friends would be partying and having fun supporting their man.
I had spent several weeks before the race making shirts from normal white shirts. They were bedecked with a huge sown on Brazilian flag on the back. I had embroidered Ayrton’s new “Driven to Perfection” logo that he had launched recently. I traced Senna’s autograph from one of the many items he had given me, and delicately embroidered it on the pockets in fine gold thread. We wore those shirts in total sadness.
People were kind. We sneaked into a lift at the Hotel De Paris to go up to the next level in the street. A room steward had a huge floral display he must have been delivering to a room. He smiled at us, plucked two flowers from the display and gave them to us. We begged the doorman at The Sporting Club of Monaco to let us use the toilet before it was closed for the day. We noticed a huge Senna Display and he kindly turned the lights back on so we could see it in all its glory. I bought a silver chain at a jeweller and a silver tiny F1 car, a heart and an initial A to put on it. The jeweller carefully took the poster advertising the GP with Ayrton’s picture on it and put it in a cardboard tube before presenting it to me. It was honestly like the principality had lost their own son. Almost like a beauty in the stillness and sadness.
A friend who owned Chequers Travel asked me if I wanted to know what really happened to Ayrton. I did and he told me very gently the full details. It was comforting to know that his death was quick, and he wouldn’t have been in pain. He told me he knew how we were feeling as he remembered when they lost his idol Jimmy Clark. It was a time for fan rivalry to be put aside and for everyone to come together.
For my part I wanted to give something back and let the people who really did understand and love Ayrton to feel they were appreciated. I made copies of my favorite photo I had taken of Ayrton in the pits at a tyre test at Silverstone and wrote a note to each of them thanking them as a fan for the love and respect they had shown him. I gave these to Gerhard Berger, Jo Ramirez, Bertice Asumptao, Ron Dennis and Josef Leberer. Gerhard hugged me, Jo and I shed a tear together and Josef was so sweet and wanted to know where I’d taken the photo. It probably sounds a bit corny or pretentious even, but I really felt Ayrton wanted me to say thank you on his behalf.
Your photo of us wasn’t the only photo of us taken at the GP. We were watching TV back at the apartment and the news came on about Monaco and a cameraman had zoomed in on my face as I’d shed a tear. That image was used quite a lot on the Monaco weekend coverage.