It's how Alex Higgins wanted to be remembered — not for his snooker, but as a man who “was always honest and tried my best”.
And there was something poetic about the fact that, when I asked him for his epitaph, he produced a betting slip from his pocket to jot it down on.
He signed it for me, complete with the trademark smiley face, but tellingly, he ripped either end of the docket, perhaps slightly embarrassed at his choice of writing paper.
But in my days on the town with Alex I quickly found it a common theme — he would whip out a betting slip and pen to write me a note, because he was too exhausted to try and speak with his faltering voice.
For the full story, see this week's Sunday Life.