Rose Boyt remembers time spent with her father, Lucian Freud I was 15 and had just left home. I was living on Elgin Avenue, in west London, just around the corner from Thorngate Road, where my father had a studio, which is where this photograph was taken. He used to drop in on me in the late afternoon, after I got home from school and before my boyfriend returned from work, and I used to make him a fried egg on toast and a cup of tea - very ceremoniously. That was the beginning of our adult relationship. Before, when I was living with my mum and brothers and sisters in Islington, I came as part of a package. I thought I was amazing because I no longer lived with my family, but below the surface I was a bit numb and tearful. My father must have been 50 or 51 then, but in my memory he seems about 30. He was anarchic and did whatever he wanted. I suppose as a teenager I had quite a lot in common with him. There was no holding him back, and by the time I was 15 there was no stopping me. No one had had any control over me for quite some time, I'm sorry to say. My mum says I was a nightmare. It hadn't occurred to me that my moving out of home might have had a negative impact on her or me - I didn't think like that. I have a 17-year-old daughter now, and if she had wanted to leg it when she was 15 I would have been devastated. My father's clothes in the picture are rakishly conventional; he did not want to look as though he was part of the counterculture of the early 1970s, and was always beautifully dressed. He had suits made at Huntsman and even the checked chef's trousers that he wore for work - bought from Denny's in Soho, belted at the waist and covered in paint - were stylish and elegant. The dungarees that my brother Ali is wearing caused me mild embarrassment in front of my father at the time, but now I can see that he looked magnificent. I am wearing a black wool 1930s coat with a fox collar, given to me by my mother. My waist-length hair is tucked into the coat. The photographer was Harry Diamond, a friend of my father's and a regular at the French pub and all those places in Soho. My father was unusually compliant and allowed himself to be photographed several times on this occasion. I have other pictures from the same set. Ali's girlfriend is in some of them. She was my best friend at school - I adored her but she went off with him. Harry Diamond photographed us a few times when I was growing up. Every now and then he turned up at our house. I just had the idea that he might have been sent by my father, but that is rather unlikely! Harry was very intense, but somehow he managed to put us all at ease. There is a strange atmosphere in the photograph - we are all so busy being ourselves. Later on, when I lived in Upper Clapton, Harry used to come around for a bath as he had no bathroom where he was living, on Leman Street. He always left my bathroom a bit cleaner than he had found it, and he gave me this photograph, among others, as a sort of hostess gift or in payment for the hot water. Interview by Georgia Dehn Rose Boyt's Hows Your Father (Short Books) is out now; roseboyt.com