A thrilling Italian Grand Prix was marred yesterday, when approximately forty minutes into the race I received a text informing me that former Tyrrell, BAR and Minardi communications manager Graham Jones had passed away following a long battle with cancer.

Excellent though it is, the obituary by RaceCar Engineering, where he had been editor for the last few years, doesn't begin to do justice to the man.

Having worked with Ayrton Senna during his time with Ford, it would be fair to say that, like the legendary driver, Graham had racing in his blood.

A seasoned journalist, as a team press officer he was fully aware what journos needed and chose to work with them rather than seeing them as the enemy. In an industry which more and more relies on spin and bluster Graham was of the old school, much like the legendary Anne Bradshaw.

Our professional relationship was to develop into a close personal friendship, both of us relishing afternoons in Soho when, over a couple of beers and a bite to eat, we would talk about the many passions we had in common; motorsport, music, motorsport, movies, motorsport, cats… generally putting the world to rights. Four or five pints later we would go our separate ways and then do it all again a couple of weeks later.

While, like most of us, Graham had his likes and dislikes, his favourites and his 'to be avoided at all costs', I never heard him run anybody down, a rarity in any business not least journalism or Formula One.

Nothing was too much trouble, if he said he'd get a quote or get to the bottom of a rumour it was done.

Though supposedly 'off duty', his phone was forever ringing, and while his pint got warmer and his lunch cooler his patience was never (visibly) tested, he was the consummate professional.

Though just a couple of years older than me I looked up to him, and when writing an article that I feared came close to stepping over the line it was his council I sought - ironically I often told him that he bore more than a passing resemblance to the actor Robert Duvall who had played consigliere to the Godfather in the movie - he would return said article with his suggestions, having surreptitiously added/removed missing/rogue apostrophes and the like.

To my eternal shame, in the last couple of years I had allowed our friendship to lapse, partly due to our different work schedules, but also, if I am honest, due to a ludicrous, totally unfounded, fear of a perceived conflict of interest. My paranoia, and my loss.

The Ship in Wardour Street, where we would sink a few as we recalled our heroes - as a Canadian it goes without saying that he idolised Gilles Villeneuve, as I do - will never be the same. Indeed, if I walked in there today I would fully expect him to be standing there, cap on his head, smiling and ordering my first ESB of the day.

In the dog-eat-dog world of journalism, not least within the rarefied atmosphere of Planet Paddock, Graham Jones was one of the truly good guys.

My sincere condolences, and I'm sure those of all our readers, go to his partner Sheila.

Chris Balfe