IT was around 2007 when I first met Alan Frank on the film screening circuit, and over the years we became colleagues and firm friends. He was the one who got me involved in writing for the Morning Star. 

What struck me was his mischievous grin, the twinkle in his eye and the witty ripostes he always had to hand, plus his knowledge of cinema and the film industry which was second to none, along with his passion and expertise on the horror genre which he wrote extensively on. 

He led a fascinating life. He was born in South Africa but was raised in Kenya and spent his holidays in Tanga (he always told me how Tanzanian coffee was the best, having four cups at breakfast). 

He came to England in the late 1950s to study medicine and his colourful tales of life as a medical student reminded me of those in Doctor in the House. But his attempts to become a medic were short-lived and he turned his hand to writing marketing copy, then penning numerous books on cinema and on such diverse characters as director Roger Corman and Frank Sinatra along with horror movies (the Horror Film Handbook). He also worked as a film extra (which proved illuminating) and was the film critic for the Daily Star for 35 years as well as the Morning Star. 

Alan was a master wordsmith, an incisive reviewer and a wonderful raconteur. I loved listening to his stories about old Hollywood, the movie stars he had met and interviewed and his reminiscences on Hammer Films. He spoke warmly about Peter Cushing, whom he considered a friend, and he couldn’t get over how Dracula (aka Christopher Lee) had made him tea when he visited him. He constantly berated Sir Michael Caine and he wasn’t a fan of Stewart Granger either, who was hired to ghostwrite his memoirs and proved a difficult and erratic customer as he informed me. 

However he always spoke lovingly and proudly about his family especially his late wife Gill and his daughters Kate and Liza. 

I always looked forward to our Friday lunches which were sheer joy as he happily let me quiz him about his life and work. He didn’t take films seriously, and his “Alan-isms” were renowned: “let sleeping critics lie... and they will,” he used to say. 

I miss our encounters, and I miss you dearly, old friend.