Nan was the first woman I met when I got to Alaska many lifetimes ago. My bestie Lori and I had driven the Alaskan-Canadian Highway in my Mustang. Not a great choice of car for such a journey, but it was the one I had and the one I loved.

We noticed some green fluid pooling on the ground under the car in Whitehorse. Later, a mechanic confirmed our worst fears: the radiator was busted. It would take three days to order a new one and have it shipped in from Vancouver.

Three days behind schedule meant that we’d lose our hotel booking in Anchorage and, in the middle of a salmon derby, nothing affordable remained. A frantic call to the all-knowing DF in Washington State dug out a cousin who said he’d put me up for a while.

We met Bob in a carpark somewhere in the city and followed him home. Into the woods. There, his wife Nan welcomed us with open arms – literally.

For every ounce of cantankerousness Bob had, Nan had two in affability. Petite, elegant, and permanently good-humoured, she looked like she’d stepped off the cover of a 1960s Vogue.

Lori left to go back to San Francisco the next day, but I stayed with Bob and Nan for four or five weeks until I got myself sorted. I’d visit regularly for Sunday lunch, and occasionally, I’d go clam digging with them and their extended family. A mad bunch.

When my brother and his mate came to visit, I took them out to see Bob and Nan. They’d put on a spread with cocktail-stick signposts stuck in the various meats Bob had hunted and fish he had smoked. The lads were very impressed.

My lasting memory of that visit is of my brother getting a passing glimpse of Nan going up the stairs in their log cabin and letting an involuntary ‘that’s some set of pins’ escape.

Nan was gorgeous, inside and out. She could have been a leg model. She could have been any sort of model. She was one of the kindest, nicest people I’ve ever met. Anywhere.

She worked for years at Brown’s. And it’s a testament to how well they thought of her that they posted this when she died. She had star quality.

I remember stories of her competing in the State Fair (and possibly winning) for the fastest fingers on an adding machine. But delightful as that is, her main claim to fame is the unstinting love and support she showed every one of her immediate and extended family. She had an exceptionally forgiving heart that loved unconditionally.

I did something once that she didn’t like. Perhaps I did lots of other things, too, that she never mentioned. This she did. We were peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink one day when she brought it up. Rather than berate me, she asked me to think of the wider consequences and ask myself if it was worth it. If I decided it was, then she’d accept that. And she meant it.

Although it’s more than 25 years since I last saw Nan, I can call her smiling face to mind with no effort at all. That angelic countenance is etched indelibly on my brain.

When Bob died in 2012, I was happy he’d gone ahead. He’d have been lost without her. He worshipped the ground she walked on and was, in his way, dead chuffed at my brother’s admiration for his missus.

They were a great pair, him and Nan. And I will be forever grateful to have had them in my life.