I have never lost a friend before. A granny, a colleague – but never a friend. Two weeks ago, as returning officers were counting up the votes and fresh-minted MPs were preparing acceptance speeches, I got news that our much-loved friend and colleague Professor Alison Britton passed away after a short illness. She was 63. All my ordinary political obsessions fell away.

I first met Alison 10 years ago. She’d just taken up her chair in medical law and ethics at Glasgow Caledonian University. I was a newbie lecturer, just learning the ropes. We became fast friends.

News of her death has been widely reported, focusing on her important work for the Scottish Government investigating the impact of transvaginal mesh implants, which have caused life-changing harm to the women involved.

I guarantee that Alison would be mortified by the idea of being the subject of glowing eulogies. She’d be mortified to read this too, I reckon. She preferred receiving praise backhanded, preferably with a satirical self-deprecating edge. She hated what she described as “simpering” – and simperers generally. So I will aim to do her justice here – without simpering.

Alison was a fun, formidable, forward, gusty kind of person. She combined humour, empathy and forthrightness. She had that decent streak of wickedness through her which Scottish culture is right to celebrate. She had an excellent cackle – described by her family as her “braying laugh”.

Alison Britton, Sarah Sutton and Laura Ceresa pose for a Herald Social photograph at the 2016 Herald Law Awards in 2016 (Image: Jamie Simpson)

This charismatic front meant that many people didn’t notice her insecurities – particularly the many younger people she mentored and supported, folk who saw her just as a pillar of strength. It was a privilege to grow to know a bit more about those over our 10 years of friendship, seeing something of her self-doubt as well as the assured performances, watching how impressively she grew into the role of professor as her personal qualities – that sharp eye for people, the gusto, the gab, the emotional intelligence – were recognised and valued by those she worked with.

Alison had a real moral seriousness to her. It is one of my favourite qualities in people. I don’t mean she was solemn. Anything but. But........

© Herald Scotland