I've been very lucky in my life to have met so many marvellous people that have enriched my life, people from all different parts of my life. I first met my friend Al completely by chance - he sat near us in the Gwladys Street end at Goodison, and for a short while he was someone who I knew on nodding terms, a face that you see every week - we all have the group of people that we spend that 90 minutes every fortnight with.

It was my great fortune that that friendship blossomed into something much more - Alan turned out to be someone with a terrific sense of humour, a love for the blues, but much more as well - he was generous, intelligent, empathetic and quick witted. I have many great memories of Alan, that I won't go into here, but suffice to say I loved the bones of the man, and he's a fixture in the majority of my happiest memories of the last 20 years.

Around about January 2023, Alan started to suffer with ill health, and he went through a lot, but in all that time it never occurred to me that we might lose him - he was so young, he had so much to live for, and he brought so much to the lives of the people who knew him.

Any poor soul who has read this far will probably be able to work out what happens next - I guess that's how life goes, but even knowing that it might happen doesn't prepare you for the shock when it actually does.

As we talked about Alan at the wake, the conversation turned to his legacy. Without going into too much detail, Alan had liver issues and complications, and that led me to thinking about the British Liver Trust. They provide advice and information to patients and families, campaigns and works with healthcare professionals to improve early diagnosis and patient care, raises awareness of how to look after your liver and supports research.

I knew I couldn't have any more of Alan's time, but I knew that if we can raise money for the Trust, then someone somewhere out there can have that time for themselves - maybe the funding provided will lead to breakthroughs in treatment, maybe it'll lead to someone getting tested earlier and surviving, but whatever the money is used for, it'll enrich other peoples lives just as Alan enriched mine.

And so, in May 2024, I ran the Edinburgh Marathon, and despite the fact it rained heavily for the entire day, I ran the Edinburgh Marathon in his memory. Sure enough, Alan went with me, and I made it round, even when the cramps set in.

If I’m honest, I was a bit shocked at how many people got behind me, because I didn’t really do much to actually raise money, but we raised about £1500. The generosity was extraordinary really, and that helped, because the race itself absolute torture, especially that last 10km, but it wasn’t really an option to stop - Alan’s family and my then girlfriend (now fiancée!) had secretly arranged for them to come up and surprise me, and I can honestly say nothing has shocked me more - I wept 4 or 5 times in the race itself because I kept thinking about them, and him, and us. I knew they would be at the finish. I wanted them to know how great Alan was, and this was a way to show it.

After the race, I was an absolute wreck, Alan’s brother (the one who did the eulogy) had to literally carry me to the toilet to be sick, my girlfriend had to put me to bed, but I did it, I made it round, and I know he saw it. No matter that I spent the next week unable to walk properly, because I knew that, just for one weekend, I’d done something to make sure his family, not just his mum and his dad, but his brother and his sister in law and the nieces who he’d been so close to and his cousins and everyone, to make sure they all knew just what a great man he was, to make sure they knew he was loved by loads of us. I couldn’t stop their pain, but I could lift the cloud for a few hours, and I had.

But the thing is, it isn’t really enough is it? There’s got to be more I can do, there’s got to be things I can do to try and help others to avoid this. I know it’s worth doing and so I know I can do it again. Most of all, I know Alan will still be with me as long as I keep doing this.

And so, here I am, asking you for more donations, and offering to run around for a bit in compensation - whatever you've got to spare, I'm grateful for, and maybe a small sacrifice on my part to run around London might help keep someone else alive too.

I promise to pay for all my own vaseline, blister plasters and anti-chafing cream from my own pocket, so you can be sure that every penny you donate will go towards honouring my mate and hopefully helping the British Liver Trust to continue to fight to improve the chances of the next person to be in Alan's position.

Thank you for your support, and please don’t forget to Gift Aid your donation if you are a UK taxpayer.