Dear Alan, you changed my life. I hope I can be the Alan in someone else’s life

I left school at 18 with one A-level, good typing and shorthand speeds, and few ambitions beyond earning a decent salary.

Two years earlier, my dad had suffered a stroke that left him partly paralysed and unable to return to his managerial job.

All I could think about was financial independence. I knew I couldn’t rely on my parents to support me in that way.

I’d worked hard for my secretarial qualifications and, after a couple of years of fairly tedious work for ageing government scientists at the Department of the Environment, I started a much more exciting job as secretary to the editor of a rock music paper called Sounds. His name was Alan Lewis.

I became adept at protecting Alan from unwanted callers – including one Debbie Harry, who unexpectedly showed up in the office to meet him one day. (The story he told later on was that he kicked himself for being in the pub when she arrived – which is not the way I remember it!)

Alan relied on me to organise his life. But, despite using me as a firewall, he was a kind and supportive boss who told me I was an exemplary secretary.

But being around creative people like Alan made me realise I wanted more than being an exemplary secretary.

Birth of a writer

I loved music. I sang backing vocals in a band called Tennis Shoes. I loved performing and going to gigs.

One night, I accompanied my then-boyfriend Tony (a Sounds writer) to a show by a cult American rock band from Detroit called Destroy All Monsters, who had a rather compelling female singer called Niagara.

Tony was lined up to write a review, but suggested that I might want to try writing it instead. That in itself was a surprise, but to my eternal amazement Alan published my review without much editing.

I was mesmerised by reading my words in print. It felt as if a new part of me had been born.

From that moment on, even though I was still his secretary, Alan encouraged and supported my development as a writer.

As I grew in confidence, I developed a strong point of view, which was essential if you wanted to be a rock critic.

And when the time came for Sounds to expand its staff, Alan offered me a full-time writer’s job.

I could barely believe it. Of course, I said yes – but the management said no.

Couldn’t have every secretary thinking they could become a writer...

But Alan persisted. And insisted.

He stood by me, and won the day.

And so, the exemplary secretary became a staff writer for Sounds.

A chance to say thank you

That was the beginning of a long career in journalism that took me all over the world and all the way into Fleet Street. All because of one man who believed in me and recognised my potential when I couldn’t see it myself.

He would pop up time and again along my path, giving me opportunities whenever he could – mostly notably when he was the editor of the NME, which led to a happy three years of working in their brilliant sub-editors’ room.

A few years ago, in a strange twist of fate, I found myself working alongside Alan’s son, Simon, at The Daily Telegraph. I’d lost touch with Alan years before, so I seized the opportunity to give Simon a card to pass to his dad, expressing gratitude for everything Alan had done for me.

I took that chance because I knew Alan had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s.

A few weeks later, he sent me a lovely email, saying it was the nicest card he’d ever received.

What I didn’t know when I wrote that card was that he also had cancer.

Be the Alan in someone else’s life

Alan died last month, and it hit me hard. It felt as if another one of my foundation stones had crumbled. I realise now that he was so more than an important guide and mentor. He was also a father figure at a time when I desperately needed one.

I’m so glad I took that opportunity to thank him. I wanted him to know what a significant difference he’d made. I would never have become a journalist without him. Who knows, maybe I still would have been the exemplary secretary, organising other people’s lives.

If you have the chance to thank the Alan in your life, do it now. Don’t wait. And always look for the opportunity to be the Alan in someone else’s life. I believe it’s one of the most meaningful and profound acts of service you can give to another human being.