I GO to too many funerals these days.

Back in the 1950s, when I started in journalism on my first weekly paper, it was part of the duties of a young reporter to turn out for all funerals and record the names of the mourners which were then used in the obituary reports.

The more mourners, the more important the funeral. Thank goodness that practice is no longer followed.

These days, the people I am seeing off are friends. It's obviously age related but I seem to have acquired a season ticket for Huddersfield Crematorium. One day, I will have to use it for myself.

Alan Cooper, one of the finest journalists Huddersfield has ever known, was the latest to command my attendance.

He was the founder of the West Riding News Service in the town and ran it for 42 years with partner Stan Solomons, until their retirement in 1996.

Coop was blessed in many ways. He was naturally talented, had two daughters and two grandchildren, and was lucky to have had wonderful relationships, with his wife Audrey, who tragically died, and then with Wendy, his partner of 17 years.

He was Bradford born, worked on national newspapers but put down his roots in Huddersfield. He was hard working at his craft but had a natural flair that put him in a class apart of his contemporaries.

Coop lived and worked through what I consider to be a golden age of journalism, when newspapers were king, before 24-hour news channels and the internet.

The hours were long but no one minded and overtime was a foreign concept. Every evening newspaper or provincial daily produced at least three editions a day, and the pub was a second office, or second home, for many a journalist.

The camaraderie was real and cemented in many of the watering holes around the town, but mainly the Albert.

That was where I first met Coop, 38 years ago, and discovered a man of charm, wit and wisdom who was unconditional in his friendship and generous with his talent.

My own modest skills as a news reporter were honed by his advice.

Like me, Coop started on weekly newspapers. He began to learn his trade on the Shipley Times in the 1940s, where he attended his fair share of funerals and collected the names of mourners.

He would have needed a big notebook to collect the names at his own funeral. It was packed.

Coop has left behind a lot of friends and a lot of memories and journalism has lost a master craftsman.