If one can be said to be a Kirsty MacColl fan, then I am. But even I have to admit she was never cool, never iconic, always somehow a little naff, making rabid devotion unlikely. Or any strong feeling either way. A recent thread on I Love Music, called Kirsty MacColl - why never cool? petered out after a couple of messages into a discussion on her husband, Steve Lillywhite.

Yet I own all her albums, and saw her in concert four times in the past year alone. She was a wonderfully relaxed, witty performer. I will miss her quirky repartee. At Dingwalls: "Sorry it's so packed in here tonight," she said, "I tried to get the Millennium Dome. But the government didn't want it full of dope-smoking homosexuals. Still, what can you do, that's my audience - dope-smoking homosexuals." [Big cheer]

"I was shopping in the supermarket today, and the woman who works there - she's seen me in there for about five years - says 'Ooh, I saw you on the telly; you're that Kirsty MacColl aren't you? You did that duet with Malcolm McLaren, didn't you?' [pause] Then the woman in the shop went on, 'You know who else we had in here the other day? That man who played the robot on Dr Who. He's about seven foot, you know.' "

The way I heard about Kirsty's death was cruel. It was just before Christmas. I'd spent the whole day drinking on Old Compton Street with my mate Andy, when my mobile rang. It was my friend Jonathan: "Have you heard? Kirsty MacColl has done a collaboration with The Propellerheads!" I gullibly replied "Really? What song?" Jonathan still didn't realise that I hadn't heard the news and carried on: "What was her last hit?" "Um.. .well..." "No, a speedboat, ha ha!"

More sick ironies: her last two albums were called "Tropical Brainstorm" and "Titanic Days".

When my mother died, it didn't really sink in until a month or so later, when I realised I wouldn't be getting any more of her chatty letters. That's when the loss really struck. On Saturday morning, as I was making my way to St Martin In The Fields for Kirsty's memorial service, it hit me that there wouldn't be a new Kirsty album, nor another gig, ever. And that sucks.

I am going to miss Kirsty MacColl. There's no-one else doing what she did.