I never knew Alan very well, but the little I did know, I liked. I first met him two years ago when I started playing indoor football on Tuesday mornings before work with a cross party mix of MPs and researchers. And just like when you first turn up to play football anywhere, it takes time for people to talk to you, let alone pass you the ball.
Yet not Alan. He made you feel welcome from the start with that warm smile he had. Alan Keen was a true gentleman without ego, who treated MPs and staffers alike. A trait that is sadly not as common among all members of the House of Commons as it should be.
Tuesday morning football is quite competitive, despite the average age being over 40. And Alan was always the oldest there, but whatever he lacked in youth he made up for in vigour. Quite an impressive feat for a man in his 70s.
Nevertheless, no matter if he was in goal or in the outfield, when playing Alan always displayed determination and gusto - like a fan wearing his club's colours on a Saturday. And he would get stuck in too, and expected you to do the same.
On one occasion, when he was playing in defence on the left, a through ball had been thrown from the opposing team's keeper down the left wing; releasing a newly elected Tory MP (who will remain nameless). The young male MP, on his debut at Tuesday morning football, shot off down the left flank like a greyhound out of the trap.
It was clear he assumed as it was Alan he would win the ball, probably thinking that his older opponent would shrink from the challenge and hold off. But just to make sure he won the 50-50 ball, the honourable gentleman flared his nostrils, breathed loudly and dropped his head in an intimidating manner, as he charged towards the ball.
However, as this younger MP came crashing in a glare in Alan's eye flickered. He clearly decided he wasn't going to be bullied off the ball by this arrogant young upstart. So Alan slowly limped ahead the few paces needed towards the ball with his course set for a direct impact with the opposing MP.
It was at this point the whole scene almost went into slow motion. The rest us playing seemed to stop and look on as spectators, similar to when one sees something fragile falling to earth certain to smash to pieces. Then the next second there was this loud thud, followed by a yelp and then a louder thud as both players collided and immediately collapsed to the ground.
We all stopped dead in our tracks, if we hadn't already. Everyone gasped and was thinking the same thing. Was Alan ok? Why did this stupid man come charging into Alan when he is clearly an elderly man? What a bloody idiot.
Then as something seemed to rise from the debris; it appeared one man had pulled himself up to his feet. It was only Alan, and he had only bloody won the ball too! Whereas the young MP lay at Alan's feet, defeated; and on his back whilst cupping his left knee with both hands up to his chest. This was further unflatteringly followed by rolling around whimpering in agony.
In contrast, Mr. Keen had control of the ball and with a serious look on his face was calling his team mates to action. But there was an instant, collective, cross party smile that broke out on all those present - well except the bloke on the floor of course. He was luckily blind to all of us trying to keep a straight face.
But Alan the natural gentleman, seeing the young man in pain, stopped playing, and apologised before turning to help the now red-faced junior MP - who was forced to leave the field. And who has never returned.
Nevertheless, the incident taught me a great deal about Alan. Not only was he a kind, decent man, with an inner steel and strength, but also in future I would be letting him win the ball.
God bless and rest in peace.