I FIRST met Ivan Jacobson when I was a young fledgling neurosurgeon. I was presenting a paper at a not-very-important scientific meeting. At the end of the meeting he came up to me, offering words of encouragement and advice, and, above all, he offered me kindness.

Who was this man, who spoke to me with such knowledge? Who was this man, so generous to a young, arrogant neurosurgeon? It was Ivan Jacobson. I have never forgotten my first meeting with him.

We met many times over the ensuing years and my admiration and respect for the man grew. His knowledge of neurosurgery was encyclopaedic and it was welded to an appreciation of literature, the arts and much else - a breadth of interest not common in medical circles.

He had a first-rate mind; sharp, analytical and probing. His greatest asset was his ability to clear the verbiage and concentrate on the important issue. Yes, Ivan had great talents. But above all, he was a decent, honest man with a gentle manner and a modesty of behaviour. As I got to know Ivan more, my appreciation of his deepened. It didn't surprise me that he came from South Africa, studying medicine in Johannesburg and then working at the Baragwana Hospital, in Soweto. It didn't surprise me that he found the political system of apartheid there unacceptable and that he came to Edinburgh.

It didn't surprise me that he worked hard, along with Gillingham, establishing academic neurosurgery as a force in that city. What has surprised me is that the contribution he made to that development of academic neurosurgery in Edinburgh has never fully been recognised.

Junior doctors often reflect the quality of those who train them. I had the great pleasure of working with a number of surgeons who came from Ivan Jacobson's unit in Dundee to Glasgow for further training. They all possessed his qualities. They all had an absolute and overriding commitment to their patients. To all of them, patients weren't just patients, they were real people, with real lives and real problems that had to be solved. These surgeons and their philosophy will be part of Ivan's legacy.

But above all, Ivan Jacobson's young surgeons were great colleagues, each and every one. They knew from him the importance of working together. We can all do our individual thing but it is only when we united that we make real progress. It is only together that, as surgeons, we can realise not just our own potential but the potential for those we are trusted to look after.

Ivan Jacobson probably died without knowing the impression he left on me. He probably also died without appreciating the esteem in which he was held by his colleagues and the legacy which he left to his profession. Unfortunately, that is often the way it is.