I've never really spoken about this before. This is a story about Gary Speed. It's also a story of one of the saddest and most surreal days of my life. On November 27, 2011, I left Cardiff on my way to Malvern to conduct an interview for work.

I remember it was a cold but gloriously sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. As I drove up the A40 towards England, I was in high spirits. I'd been listening to a CD, but decided to switch the radio on. The news breaking broke me. Gary Speed was dead. I couldn't believe it.

A football fan and a Wales supporter since I was young, he'd been a metronomic, reliable presence in my life. First as a player and then as manager of a Wales team being rebuilt, recharged and reawakened. I had to pull the car over and I broke down, hunched over the wheel.

It didn't seem real. It still doesn't. I drove the rest of the way numbed, in a state of shock, listening to the radio coverage. I remember Robbie Savage breaking down live on air. Nothing made any sense. Arriving in Malvern I walked in a daze to my destination.

The Malvern Theatre was where I was to interview the man whose moniker can be identified in the same singular vein as Morrissey, Prince and Madonna. Utter the name Shaky and everyone knows to whom you are referring. I was about to meet Shakin' Stevens for the very first time.

The biggest-selling act of the '80s was on the comeback trail, on the second leg of an extensive UK tour that celebrated three decades since his first hit, Hot Dog in 1980, playing stripped-back, rootsier versions of his catalogue of hits.

I didn't know what to expect. I'd heard he could be difficult and didn't particularly trust journalists. Ironically, it was Gary Speed that brought us together, united in grief. Now I don't know how big a football fan Shaky is but I needed to ask him if he had heard the news.

As a fellow Welshman I needed to talk. When I asked him had he heard the news about the Wales manager, he had to ask me to repeat myself. He couldn't believe it. My voice wavered when I repeated myself. He could see how visibly upset I was and came and put an arm on my shoulder.

He asked if I wanted a cup of tea and hastily made me a brew. So we sat there, me and the ‘80s icon, who I had grown up watching on my TV, two blokes from Cardiff, both of us shocked, stunned and in total disbelief talking about Gary Speed.

We spoke about what a great guy he was, the model professional who had been doing a brilliant job with the Wales team. It was as surreal you would imagine it to be. But what I remember most is Shaky’s kindness, empathy and warmth on the darkest of days for Wales.

Composing myself I regained my composure, remembered my job and started the interview. He was engaging, candid and funny as we discussed the highs and lows of his career and his brush with his own mortality, having recently suffering a heart attack.

I didn’t mention Gary in the original story. It seemed self-indulgent, trite and, well, disrespectful, but I wanted to tell the story now, about how sadness and grief can bring people together in the strangest of circumstances.

As I say, one of the saddest and most surreal days of my life.

RIP Gary Speed. And cheers Shaky.

You can read the interview with Shakin’ Stevens from that fateful day here… https://bit.ly/2qHxNFP 

p.s. Blokes are rubbish at talking about how they're feeling. If you're hurting, if you're struggling, please speak up. There are plenty of people who will listen. I know myself how hard it can be. But getting help was the best thing I ever did.