I decided to sit in the lobby and wait for him. I had with me a friend with a Suzuki motorcycle.
After I was done at the hotel, he was supposed to take me to the festival palace faster than
Sellers's Rolls Royce.

So here I was, sitting in the lobby, reading the papers, with an
eye trained on the elevator. Suddenly,
I noticed a cellophane-wrapped rose on a table near mine. The rose lay there and no one was coming to take it. I waited for another five, ten, fifteen minutes
and then I took it. It might come in handy.

Sellers had a beautiful young wife, Lynne
Frederick. While she looked after
his health, she also liked posing
for photographers. Roses
always do the trick with beautiful women.

I was
still sitting in the armchair holding the rose. I
was bored. Then, finally, I saw Sellers
and Lynne come out of the elevator, arm in arm. I sprang up from
the armchair, approached them, bowed
to Lynne and gave her the rose. It was a rather unusual
gesture, but I did it as
politely and as gallantly as I could.
She was delighted and he didn't
mind. Half the job done.
Then I asked if I could take their photograph, as a souvenir. Sellers,
who was also an amateur
photographer, took out
his own camera and snapped a photo of me presenting the rose (again) to his wife.
But I was faster and managed to both give her the rose
and take a picture of him photographing us. We took a few more photos by the elevator and then we said
our goodbyes.

From Jadran Lazic's book 50 Years of Photography, Vol.
7, Zagreb 2027, p. 307.