Jane Rangeley is snapped by Henri Cartier-Bresson, Paris, 1973

In 1972, in my early 20s, I was living in London, working for an advertising agency and having a generally fantastic time. That summer, I joined my parents on a camping holiday in the south of France, taking a girlfriend along with me. I was quite a Francophile, after many family holidays in France and studying French A-level. One night, we went to a nightclub on a beach and I met a young Frenchman.

When I got home, I immediately started looking for a job in Paris, where he was studying medicine. My Dad promised me the airfare if I could arrange an interview. In the end, I saw an ad from Unesco, which was looking for secretaries. I did all the tests in London, got the job, and went over in early 1973.

We lived together for six years. On Sundays, we often went for a stroll. The Jardin des Plantes, or botanical gardens, where this photograph was taken, was a favourite. It had an ancient zoo, and I had probably taken along the baguette in my pocket to feed the animals. We had stopped to look up at a kerfuffle going on in the trees: a huge owl, possibly escaped from the zoo, was being bombarded by little birds.

The moment we moved away, I said, “Why was that man taking our photograph?” He was short, discreetly dressed and semi-hidden by a tree. I have since read that Henri Cartier-Bresson often waited by trees in Parisian parks for the perfect image to present itself. But I thought nothing of it at the time.

The following year, in May 1974, one of my boyfriend’s friends spotted the photograph in a magazine called Zoom. It appeared in a feature about Leica cameras: they showed 27 camera models alongside a photograph taken with each one, many of them by a well-known photographer. Ours was the last. I still have a copy.

I was thrilled, and flattered. I knew about Cartier-Bresson and admired his work. I liked that he always showed a little bit of humour in his photographs, and never allowed them to be cropped. I have not stopped telling people about it since.

Before I returned to London, in 1979, I wanted to get a copy of the photograph. I called Zoom, who gave me the number for Magnum, the agency that Cartier-Bresson co-founded; they gave me his home number. I was shy, but I managed to ask him for two copies before I hung up. He was very friendly. Many years later, after I met his agent at the Paris Art Fair, he signed my photograph for me.

I love this picture. Its beauty lies both in the avenue of trees and the relaxed joy on our faces. It was a happy time for me; I had been in Paris for only a few months. We may not have worked out, but my French boyfriend and I remain in touch to this day.