\u2018I can\u2019t bear being without him\u2019<\/p>\n
Ruby Wax<\/p>\n
Alan was my best friend, my brother and my everything. I don\u2019t stop thinking about him. For me, there\u2019s no replacement; I just have a void. If I could speak to him I\u2019d say: \u201cCome back, because I can\u2019t really bear being without you.\u201d<\/p>\n
We saw each other or spoke every day since 1980. I was a third party in the marriage, but Rima was never jealous. When we met for the first time, he let me stay at his house. He was in bed and I just jumped up and down on his body with excitement, but it wasn\u2019t sexual. Then we both got into the RSC and rented a house together we called Shakespeare Sauna.<\/p>\n
\u2018I just jumped up and down on his body with excitement\u2019 \u2026 Wax and Rickman in 2009. Photograph: Nick Harvey\/WireImage<\/p>\n
We had a pet tortoise, Betty, who I got into every RSC show, which made Alan scream. We\u2019d dress her up \u2013 that\u2019s the kind of sense of humour he had. But then I made her ride a bicycle, and had her walk across Gower Street, and got reported to the RSPCA, who took her away.<\/p>\n
There isn\u2019t a day that goes by when I don\u2019t see something he would find hilarious. I did everything for Alan; if I could make him laugh that was like winning an Oscar. He steered my career for the first 30 years and I think I\u2019d be doing much better now if he was still around. I don\u2019t have anybody like that I can trust.<\/p>\n
Nobody was a better critic of your acting. He was a genius who could see into the heart of a performance and know instinctively what about the person was getting in the way. He could see your ego and wanted to edit it. Some people couldn\u2019t take it because he could do it with cruelty \u2013 he was intolerant if people weren\u2019t listening. But he was always right.<\/p>\n
He used to tell me to not look desperate when I was doing comedy and tell me I was smiling as if I wanted everyone to love me. When he directed my shows he\u2019d do my comedy for me in the right way and clean the floor. He wasn\u2019t gay, but he delivered lines in high, high camp. And then I\u2019d sort of sadly imitate him.<\/p>\n
It was such a deep connection. He wanted to take care of me and would defend me against my parents who were vicious. He\u2019d tell them I had talent, which they didn\u2019t believe, but they listened to him and they let me continue. Each time I\u2019d get off the plane from visiting them in Chicago I\u2019d perform for Alan what they\u2019d said and done to me. He would bend over laughing. That was the only time he didn\u2019t give me notes. He\u2019d just say it was brilliant.<\/p>\n
\u2018My children are bereft\u2019 \u2026 Alan Rickman and Ruby Wax admiring their names outside the Royal Shakespeare Company 1978. Photograph: Courtesy of Ruby Wax<\/p>\n
Alan was godfather to my children and they\u2019re bereft, because he steered them too. At school, my daughter Maddie was really shy, hardly spoke. In plays, she\u2019d be in the back, playing a leaf. Alan told her: \u201cYou have to go to clown school.\u201d At the time I thought: why is he doing this to me? But now, she\u2019s a comedian. He opened her up like a can. He would\u2019ve been so proud that my daughters are comedians but he would have given them endless notes.<\/p>\n
It was such a privilege to have known him for so long, back when he was raw, before he was famous. I could see the gold when he was just doing Shakespeare. I wish he wasn\u2019t only remembered by kids for being Snape. I\u2019d begged him to do films, but he kept turning them down, saying he\u2019d be stereotyped. And, lo and behold, he ended up a stereotype for a lot of people.<\/p>\n
Nowadays, I see people trying to imitate him, but they can\u2019t pull it off. Nobody gets close to Alan. There are people who are ethereal or male or female or a certain age or a certain type. He was something totally unique. Alan was unreal. <\/p>\n
\u2018There was always dinner\u2019<\/p>\n
Lindsay Duncan<\/p>\n
Death often feels like an aberration. In Alan\u2019s case, it was a hell of an aberration. Surely he wouldn\u2019t allow it? Of course, even he couldn\u2019t control this one, or could he? Famously, he chose every detail of his funeral. Of course he did. Was it good? You bet it was. He wouldn\u2019t have died until it was perfect.<\/p>\n
\u2018He could be imperious\u2019 \u2026 (from left): James Earl Jones, Lynn Redgrave, Lindsay Duncan and Alan Rickman in New York in 1987 when Les Liaisons Dangereuses was on Broadway. Photograph: Bettmann\/Bettmann Archive<\/p>\n
Alan loved a good time. He loved making a good time for other people. His dressing rooms were always a party. There were politicians, movie stars, old friends, new friends and plenty of wine, elegantly poured by Alan. Then there was dinner. Always dinner. If anyone looked as though they might be going home alone, they were scooped up and nervous ma\u00eetre d\u2019s learned that the huge cachet of having Alan Rickman<\/a> in their restaurant was accompanied by a hasty adjustment to the size of the table.<\/p>\n Fame really suited Alan. He joyfully shared all the upsides with his friends. Those many dinners were paid for by him and objections were met with a little smile and \u201cI\u2019ve got two words to say to you: Harry. Potter\u201d. He could be imperious. He could be cross. Once, at a cast dinner, he got into a political row and called his understudy a Tory cunt. The next day, barely controlling his face, he just said: \u201cOops \u2026\u201d He did apologise.<\/p>\n \u2018Magnificent\u2019 \u2026 Lindsay Duncan and Alan Rickman in Private Lives in London, 2001. Photograph: Robbie Jack\/Corbis\/Getty Images<\/p>\n Listen to Alan performing Revolutionary Witness, and Tom Waits\u2019s Take It With Me and Uptown Funk \u2013 again. Some of his funeral soundtrack. Think, cry, laugh and party. That\u2019s Alan. A magnificent man.<\/p>\n \u2018It was one of the worst nights of his life\u2019<\/p>\n Richard Curtis<\/p>\n It\u2019s a pretty open secret that when three of us had the final vote for who should play the lead in Four Weddings and a Funeral, I was out-voted. I wanted Alan Rickman. Hugh Grant got the part. My reasoning was that Hugh was a bit too handsome and annoying, but mainly I voted for Alan because I\u2019d so loved him in a film called Close My Eyes. In the years that followed Four Weddings, with each new film Alan did, from Sense and Sensibility to An Awfully Big Adventure to Galaxy Quest, I kept seeing reasons why I might have been right. He had such a wonderful softness and depth next to his stern, scarier side. And a great sense of comedy.<\/p>\n But I did also always think he was a bit out of my league, so it was such a thrill when he agreed to be in Love Actually 10 years later. I thought he was wonderful in the film, and a huge part of the power of Emma Thompson weeping to Joni Mitchell in the bedroom is because Alan has been so believable; a million miles from the cliched cad the character could have been. He\u2019s extraordinary in the scene where Emma faces him with what he\u2019s done. He made it easy for me during the filming \u2013 it was my first film as director \u2013 and I was surprised by how friendly he was, and unsurprised by how pitch-perfect his performance was.<\/p>\n \u2018I\u2019ll never forget Alan\u2019s agony\u2019 \u2026 Rowan Atkinson and Alan Rickman in Love Actually. Photograph: Ronald Grant<\/p>\n I\u2019m sure Alan wouldn\u2019t mind me talking about the only tricky night we had. It was the scene where Rowan Atkinson is wrapping a present for him in a department store, very slowly. First we shot Alan, who did his work swiftly and exquisitely. Then we turned the camera on Rowan. Rowan, being a close friend of mine and having about 10 different stages to remember, took his time, often stopped and chatted with me in the middle of takes, us keeping the camera running while he worked out what to do with rosebuds and sticks of lavender, breaking out of character, practising. I\u2019ll never forget Alan\u2019s agony as, total professional that he was, he kept up his supportive and nervous performance for 12 minute takes, never dropping out of character for a moment as we chatted and dithered. He described it as one of the worst nights of his life.<\/p>\n It is heart-breaking how many wonderful years and wonderful performances of his we\u2019ve missed.<\/p>\n \u2018We gobbled blueberry pie and cheered each other on\u2019<\/p>\n Sigourney Weaver<\/p>\n Ten years \u2026 it seems so much longer. An eternity since we last heard Alan\u2019s gorgeous laugh boom out. I first saw him in Les Liaisons Dangereuses on Broadway; so convincing in his wickedness I assumed it was the real him \u2026 yes, and I\u2019m an actor.<\/p>\n \u2018Our stomachs ached with laughter\u2019 \u2026 Rickman and Weaver in Galaxy Quest (1999). Photograph: Dreamworks Skg\/Allstar<\/p>\n Years later we met for real on the film Galaxy Quest. Here was this sublimely playful man who surrendered utterly to portraying a washed up TV hack, seething with petty jealousy and clawing at his giant shell-cap. His character grounded us all. Tim Allen made us laugh so hard all day long, and no one more so than Alan. Our stomachs ached at the end of every day.<\/p>\n Shortly afterwards, Alan asked me to do Snow Cake with him: a romantic lead for him and for me the challenge of playing an autistic woman called Linda. I was so astonished that he could imagine me as Linda, I researched it for a full year so I wouldn\u2019t let him down. We shot it way up in Wawa, Canada, gobbling blueberry pie and cheering each other on. When Linda would veer out of her lane, Alan would say firmly: \u201cI do not improvise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2018I do not improvise\u2019 \u2026 director Marc Evans, Sigourney Weaver and Alan Rickman at the Edinburgh premiere of Snow Cake, 2006. Photograph: Murdo Macleod\/The Guardian<\/p>\n I made the idiot mistake of thinking this brilliant friend would be with us for ever. At Mike Nichols\u2019 memorial in November 2015, he came up to me with his wife, Rima. I threw my arms around him and said: \u201cHey, we\u2019re going to do another Galaxy Quest!\u201d He looked at me quietly and said: \u201cWe\u2019ll see.\u201d I said: \u201cWhat do you mean? It\u2019s gonna be so much fun.\u201d He squeezed my shoulders, looked down and said very gently: \u201cWe\u2019ll see.\u201d He was gone two months later, for ever to be missed.<\/p>\n \u2018There was nothing flaky about him. No nonsense, no rubbish\u2019<\/p>\n Brian Cox<\/p>\n I can\u2019t believe it\u2019s been 10 years since we lost Alan. His death was such a shock. My father died of pancreatic cancer when I was eight \u2013 and my first wife\u2019s father also died of the same disease. With Alan, I first felt guilty, because we hadn\u2019t been in touch for a while. And then I wondered: what\u2019s going to happen? How will the world be now Alan\u2019s gone? Because he had this way of making people feel easy. He could take their cares away. It was an incredible gift.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n \u2018He looked laid-back but he was very driven\u2019 \u2026 Rickman and Brian Cox in Th\u00e9r\u00e8se Raquin. <\/p>\n I worked with Alan on his first TV show: Th\u00e9r\u00e8se Raquin in 1980. He immediately had a solidity and clarity about him, as well that amazing gravity and integrity. He\u2019d started as a graphic artist, which had left him with a very fine visual sense, and also a real discipline. His standards were very high. Alan might have appeared laid-back but he was endlessly driven, very firm, totally reliable. There was nothing flaky about him. No nonsense. No rubbish.<\/p>\n Everyone knew he was an extraordinary actor, but as we became friends, I realised what an extraordinary person he was, too. I had such respect for Alan. So many people relied on him. He was so kind and supportive to those who were struggling: he\u2019d seek them out and sort them out. Listen to problems without presumption and gently come up with solutions.<\/p>\n He had an incredible generosity of spirit, as well as a commitment to serving his community and being present in people\u2019s lives. His death made me conscious of the need to keep in touch with people and see them often. A presence such as his is missed for a long time. I still occasionally think: oh, I\u2019d like to talk to Alan about this. Then I remember he\u2019s not here any more. I loved his acting, but as a man I loved him even more.<\/p>\n \u2018I nearly broke his back\u2019<\/p>\n Sharleen Spiteri<\/p>\n When we planned the video for Texas\u2019s In Demand in 2000, the director had the idea I would dance the tango with someone. I said I didn\u2019t want it to be with some random gorgeous man because that\u2019d just be soulless \u2013 it needed to be someone you thought would dance the tango. Then [composer] Michael Kamen walked in and said he was just off the phone with Alan Rickman, who was a big fan of Texas. Everybody looked at each other and went: \u201cNow there\u2019s somebody that would dance the tango.\u201d Alan agreed, and even cancelled the first week of his annual holiday in Italy to do it.<\/p>\n We shot the video overnight and it was so, so cold. Most of the shoot was driving around in a Bentley but then we did the tango in a petrol station about 5am. I was in this backless Valentino dress and high heels, freezing my bollocks off. Alan was in a suit. The crew had giant puffer coats. At one point the director shouted: \u201cShar! Throw him against the petrol pump like you\u2019re about to fuck his brains out!\u201d I did. Then about two seconds after the bit that\u2019s in the video, he slid very slowly back down the petrol pump. I\u2019d got so excited I nearly broke his back.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n \u2018Throw him against the petrol pump like you\u2019re about to fuck his brains out!\u2019 \u2026 the video for In Demand.<\/p>\n Fifteen years later, Texas had a song, Start a Family, I thought would make a good duet. I phoned Alan and said: \u201cHow do you fancy singing on a record?\u201d And he went: \u201cOh, good God \u2026\u201d in that wonderful drawling voice of his. In the end, most of it was more speaking than singing, but he did break into a little bit of melody in places. It was great watching him interpret the music. And we had an absolute laugh filming the video: putting on our very serious faces, then giggling between takes.<\/p>\n He was so naughty and mischievous and always had a serious glint in his eye. We had the best time together. But I really loved that he \u2013 like me \u2013 also took the work very seriously. It wasn\u2019t about being famous or where you\u2019re seen or who you\u2019re seen with. It was about being privileged enough to be doing the thing you\u2019d dreamed of, with creative people.<\/p>\n He was so generous with his time and love and friendship, and always very giving with people who were just coming up: exchanging contacts and connecting people and giving them chances. I loved it because I met so many people through him. I\u2019ve never been so close to someone so famous.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n \u2018 I think he\u2019s still at the end of the phone\u2019 \u2026 the video for Start a Family. <\/p>\n Whenever he\u2019d ring me on speakerphone in my car and someone else was with me their eyes would nearly pop out of their head. That amazing voice! The depth and richness and enunciation. I remember my daughter and her friends being in the car when they were about seven and had just got into Harry Potter<\/a>. When Alan rang they lost their minds: \u201cOh my God! It\u2019s Snape!\u201d<\/p>\n There\u2019s a part of my mind in which I think he\u2019s still at the end of the phone. He was on TV all over Christmas; I\u2019d have it on in the background and suddenly I\u2019d hear his voice. That bit of him stays alive. It was a really lovely and warm and comforting feeling. At the supermarket last week, a stranger hugged me and said: \u201cYou danced with Alan Rickman! You\u2019re the luckiest woman on the planet!\u201d I was like: you know what? I am pretty damn lucky. <\/p>\n \u2018He might be alarmed at today\u2019s tyranny\u2019<\/p>\n Ian Rickson<\/p>\n \u2018I remember him it emboldens me to fight for what I believe in\u2019 \u2026 Ian Rickson in 2021. Photograph: Linda Nylind\/The Guardian<\/p>\n Alan was unafraid to express his radical political perspective. And he was unashamedly a believer in the arts.<\/p>\n In holding both of these two positions he also articulated the interdependence of culture and meaning. He embraced his craft, and particularly the role of theatre as a political medium.<\/p>\n He might be alarmed at how much more tyranny and inequality there is now, and also how much harder people feel it is to speak out about it. And with his working-class origins I know he\u2019d worry about the increasing elitism in the business.<\/p>\n So when I remember him it emboldens me to fight for what I believe in, and relish the privilege I have in getting to make theatre. <\/p>\n \u2018Praise from Alan counted far more than a critic\u2019s review\u2019<\/p>\n Harriet Walter<\/p>\n Alan was never a nobody. Even when he was an unknown 32-year-old, when I first met him in the bar at the old Bush theatre, he seemed like somebody. \u201cOh, I\u2019ve heard about you,\u201d he drawled in that beautiful voice. His searchlight gaze had fallen on me and for that moment he made me feel like somebody.<\/p>\n The first play I did with him was The Seagull at the Royal Court. I didn\u2019t have to act Nina\u2019s fascination with Trigorin. We also did a restoration comedy together. He was brilliantly funny both on and off stage. I don\u2019t think he was easy to direct. He was too much of a director himself. You wanted to do your best for him. Praise from Alan, even then, counted far more than any critic\u2019s review.<\/p>\n \u2018I didn\u2019t have to act Nina\u2019s fascination with Trigorin\u2019 \u2026 Harriet Walter and Alan Rickman in The Seagull. Photograph: Donald Cooper\/Alamy<\/p>\n I remember a phone call with him around that time, gossiping about any jobs we had been offered. I had plumped gratefully for the first thing that came my way, while Alan recited a list of roles he had turned down. He was paring down his choices with what I soon learned was an acute sense of where he was heading and where he was supposed to be. If this sounds offensive, it wasn\u2019t. He was a rocket that was perfectly prepared but hadn\u2019t yet been launched. When the part of Obadiah Slope in Barchester Chronicles came his way he recognised his moment and he pounced.<\/p>\n Then there was Les Liaisons Dangereuses and then there was Die Hard playing Bruce Willis\u2019s nemesis. Wow! My old mate Alan had become a film star \u2013 a fully fledged Somebody \u2013 and he took to that status as the proverbial duck to water.<\/p>\n His generosity and kindness were legendary as was his brilliant sense of humour \u2013 a unique combination of wry sophistication and silliness that is evident in many of his film roles. When I worked with him again in Sense and Sensibility, although our characters didn\u2019t meet we spent plenty of social time on location.<\/p>\n Alan took care of me, made sure I dined with him and the top cast at the top tier hotel restaurant and paid for the cab back to my not quite top tier hotel some 10 miles away. He threw a birthday party for me in the year my partner died from cancer. He knew it would be a hard one for me.<\/p>\n \u2018I am almost happy for him that he left when he did\u2019 \u2026 Richard Wilson, Alan Rickman, Harriet Walter and Emma Fielding at a Royal Court gala, 2009. Photograph: Alan Davidson<\/p>\n Alan elevated friendship to an art form. His friends grew in number throughout his extraordinary career but he never dropped his old pals in favour of more starry ones. He was unusually loyal. I marvelled at how he managed to see nearly all of our performances and wine and dine us afterwards. Stardom didn\u2019t change him because he had always been a star, albeit a very well-grounded one.<\/p>\n So much has happened in the world in the 10 years since he died. I miss his piercing intelligence now more than ever. It is terribly sad for all of us that he has gone but I am almost happy for him that he left when he did.<\/p>\n \u2018He queued for breakfast in his Snape costume and wig\u2019<\/p>\n Tom Felton<\/p>\n When I think about Alan a smile always comes to my face. I was lucky enough to work with him for 11 years at Leavesden studios on Harry Potter.<\/p>\n I remember how intimidated I was when I first saw him. Not because of his portrayal of the seemingly evil Professor Snape but because he was the only cast member I actually recognised.<\/p>\n \u2018He turned slowly to me and said: \u2018I\u2019ve peaked\u2019\u2019 \u2026 Tom Felton with Rickman as Snape in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Photograph: Everett Collection Inc\/Alamy<\/p>\n As an 11-year-old, I had no idea who Sir Richard Harris or Dame Maggie Smith were, but Alan was big time! Seeing the man who\u2019d played that brilliantly villainous role as the Sheriff of Nottingham in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves seated at the end of the Headteacher\u2019s table in Hogwarts\u2019 Great Hall was very memorable.<\/p>\n He was nothing but kind, genuine, seemingly unfazed by anything happening around us and always had time for everyone. I learned just as much \u2013 if not more \u2013 from Alan off-camera as I did when we were filming.<\/p>\n He could have had his food delivered to his trailer, like most of the cast (including me). Instead, he queued up for his own breakfast and lunch, head to toe in his Snape costume and wig, holding a plastic tray and waiting his turn in the usually very long line behind a carpenter, set decorator, burly cameraman and Gringotts goblin \u2013 an image I will never forget. I didn\u2019t realise it then, but I think now Alan\u2019s silent message was: \u201cWe\u2019re all in this together. Equally.\u201d<\/p>\n I remember the night shoot when Hagrid\u2019s hut was set on fire. It was about 4am and freezing cold. We stood together on a grassy bank, Helena Bonham Carter and Robbie Coltrane battling behind us. Alan didn\u2019t utter a word. I finally mustered the courage to ask him: \u201cYou all right, Alan? How you feeling?\u201d About 10 seconds after I\u2019d spoken he turned his head to me and replied slowly: \u201cI\u2019ve peaked.\u201d He then turned his head back with the tiniest hint of a smile and a twinkle in his eye.<\/p>\n \u2018If children visited, he\u2019d sneer and tell them to tuck their shirt in\u2019 \u2026 Rickman as Snape. Photograph: Warner Bros\/Allstar<\/p>\n He taught me a great deal about charity. He would often have half a dozen people visit the studio each day, and would claim they were his cousins or friends. Really, he was offering terminally ill children and their families a chance to see behind the curtains. He also taught me that children don\u2019t want to meet actors, but the characters they play.<\/p>\n I would usually greet a nine-year-old visitor by saying: \u201cHello, how\u2019s it going mate?\u201d which would usually freak them out: \u201cWhy is Draco being so happy?!\u201d Alan would sneer at them in front of their parents, then tell them to tuck their shirts in and clip them round the ear. Full Snape. Charming, disarming and a delight to watch. He never smiled. But when I look back, I think he probably was inside.<\/p>\n \u2018He kind of loved you \u2013 in a way that wasn\u2019t creepy\u2019<\/p>\n Anna Chancellor<\/p>\n I must have met Alan before I became his employee, but he wasn\u2019t my friend. So when he cast me in Creditors, which he directed, I was amazed and incredibly flattered because anyone would have worked for Alan.<\/p>\n It was a golden time: just the three of us in the cast \u2013 me, Tom Burke and Owen Teale. Alan hardly ever directed so he didn\u2019t have the weariness of a lot of jobbing directors. He was very inspired and wanted to translate what had and hadn\u2019t worked for him as an actor to us. He\u2019d start by asking you for any ideas you had about the play, your part, anyone else\u2019s part, the costumes, and write them down in his very beautiful handwriting. No thought was unnecessary or wrong. And that doesn\u2019t sound very radical, but actually it\u2019s not common.<\/p>\n \u2018His care was a turning point for me\u2019 \u2026 Tom Burke, Alan Rickman, Anna Chancellor and Owen Teale at the press night for Creditors, 2008. Photograph: Dan Wooller\/Shutterstock<\/p>\n Most directors aren\u2019t actors. And Alan felt so personally about things that had gone well, and very deeply about things that hadn\u2019t. He was very sensitive about times he\u2019d felt sort of shamed. So he kept saying to us three: \u201cYou are all just perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n He was also a hard taskmaster. He clearly understood that there are rules and mechanics and techniques, which he\u2019d thought very deeply about. For instance: you shouldn\u2019t start one sentence on the same pitch as you finished the one before. He knew his own failings as an actor; that sometimes his voice could be ponderous and drop at the end. He didn\u2019t want you to do that.<\/p>\n What he hated most of all was if you indicated to an audience what you were thinking before you thought it, with ums and oohs and ahhs. He called them \u201ctrampolines\u201d. He didn\u2019t want you trampolining; he wanted you to come in bang, snap, sharp with clarity of thought.<\/p>\n He once lined us all up and said: \u201cAnna, this is what you do,\u201d and ran his hands through his hair. \u201cThat is your habit. And when you bend down you sort of stick your arse in the air. Don\u2019t do that.\u201d I think a lot of directors wouldn\u2019t say that to you; they might feel it was stepping a bit beyond their remit.<\/p>\n He was stricter with the guys. As an actress, I felt so seen by him and so appreciated. His care was a turning point for me. I just adored him. He kind of loved you, in a way that wasn\u2019t creepy. He was very interested in you and very clear about what you and only you could bring. He made you feel like you had what no one else had.<\/p>\n The play transferred from the Donmar to New York, where it was much better received. Alan was there every night and after the show he would open the dressing room door and in would walk Al Pacino or Liam Neeson or Susan Sarandon. It was a dream. I\u2019ve known people with money but I\u2019ve never known anyone pick up a bill like Alan. He was the most generous person I\u2019ve ever met. If your friend was in town, he\u2019d pay for their ticket and then book you into one of Keith McNally\u2019s fabulous restaurants.<\/p>\n One day I woke with the most unbelievable headache. I couldn\u2019t see. I rang Alan and he said to come over. When I got to his flat I was sick everywhere. We went to hospital and Alan sat with me as they went through all my medical history, so it became a different sort of relationship.<\/p>\n \u2018As soon as I got to Alan\u2019s fabulous flat I was sick everywhere\u2019 \u2026 Tom Burke and Anna Chancellor in Creditors. Photograph: Robbie Jack\/Corbis\/Getty Images<\/p>\n In order to test for viral meningitis \u2013 which is what I had \u2013 I had a lumbar puncture, which leaked, so Alan and I went to a special clinic where they take blood from your arm and they put it back into your body and it forms a plaster over the hole. The doctor told us that I should avoid sudden, loud movements in case the blood clot dislodge.<\/p>\n I said: \u201cOh, really? Because, Alan, what about when I really scream at the end of the play?\u201d And he went: \u201cDon\u2019t worry, we can just come back and get another plaster.\u201d That\u2019s what you sign up for as an actor: if you\u2019re unwell, you still go on.<\/p>\n I went to see Alan a lot when he was in hospital, but still as my mentor, not my friend. Then, in 2024, I went to Mexico for the day of the dead to scatter the ashes of my daughter, Poppy<\/a>, and randomly met Ruby Wax on the plane. I said she should print out a picture of Alan, and we made an impromptu shrine in one of these huge, beautiful cemeteries in Oaxaca. We lit candles and we told stories and it was very moving. Alan would have loved it.<\/p>\n \u2018I could not reconcile myself to his absence\u2019<\/p>\n Helena Kennedy KC<\/p>\n \u2018His death was such a theft\u2019 \u2026 Helena Kennedy KC in 2019. Photograph: Alicia Canter\/The Guardian<\/p>\n Ten years ago; it does not seem possible. His death was such a theft from us; this brilliant, gorgeous actor, who had so much more to give, was suddenly gone. Although I was one of the close friends who was privy to Alan\u2019s illness and visited him as he faded, I could not reconcile myself to his absence.<\/p>\n