About 12 years ago I was at college in Sheffield; desperately trying to get my pictures sharp and convince local papers to let me loose on the public. I always wanted to work for a newspaper; I always wanted to work for The Independent.

Last month I found myself in a noisy printing press in Watford watching the great paper roll off the presses for the final time. I’d worked for The Independent on Sunday for about 8 years, mainly shooting features, portraits and a smattering of news (when it happened on a Saturday) and I loved it. I was part of a team; small and battling against the odds. It was a unique position, I’d regularly get a call from the picture editor asking if I’d come in and work with her and the art director on one of those front page concepts that the paper was so famous for. I made friends, talented journalists that were given the opportunity and canvas to push for stories and be a voice for the people that mattered.

There were countless memories too, meeting the Prime-Minister, lawnmower racing, Gandalf making me a cup of tea and the London Olympics! I must have done a couple of hundred VoxPops with a constant conveyor belt of “weekly workies”. I still have a giant folder full of clippings and pages that I will bore my children with in the years to come.

The Independent was built on it’s reputation for photography; a broadsheet until 2003 the paper used a roster of talented photojournalists and set a new standard in the 90’s for gritty and honest photography. One of those photographers; Glynn Griffiths was also photographing the last day on his Nikon F1, a camera that he used on assignment for the paper 30 years ago.

The end of the paper is beyond sad; a considered voice for the left that has gone forever.

Thanks to Sophie Batterbury and Lee Martin for all the gigs, best in the business.

nb: I was asked not to share moments from the last day in the office, the images from the day are for the staff only.