When the MP for Keighley announced that she planned to stand down at the next election, journalists began penning her political obituary and, in most cases, the conclusion was that she'd done a pretty good job.

Not everyone liked her forthright style which has, on occasion, upset some Asian residents of her constituency, but all talked of her tenaciousness, and the Guardian went so far as to devote an editorial in praise of her work.

"My daughter saved this little lot for me," she smiles, clearly proud her departure made headlines. "I always thought it would be nice to read your obituary before you die, and it feels like I've had that chance. It would have been awful if they said I'd done a terrible job, but they were very nice."

In her resignation statement, Ann blamed age – she will be 70 by the next election – health and decreasing energy levels. There is little evidence of the latter as she flies around her Shipley home desperately trying to locate her car keys, but it has not been an easy six months. Earlier this year, after various health problems involving three operations, her two members of staff left to pursue other projects, leaving her to run the constituency office alone for more than two months. It was then that she knew another election battle would be a step too far.

"Every time I thought about the election I started to panic," she says. "I was fairly certain I could just about win because I've worked hard for the constituency, but I started to wonder why I was even thinking of putting myself through it.

"My doctor said that the only way to survive a four-week election campaign was to have at least two days a week where I did absolutely nothing at all. You just can't do that, so I knew then what the right decision was.

"I've enjoyed every minute, but you never know when you're going to die, and I want to be able to enjoy my retirement. I want to see more of my grandchildren, and the back garden really needs sorting out."

Ann has undoubtedly had some stark lessons in just how short life can be. In 1994, her first husband, Bob, then the MP for Bradford South, was killed in a car crash on the M1, and four years ago she lost her second husband, the Rev John Hammersley, to cancer.

"I was in the car with Bob. I looked at him and knew he was dead," she says. "They said he died instantly, so that was some comfort, but it took me a long time to get over it. For years, I refused to marry John because
I thought that as soon as I did, he would die.

"When he was diagnosed with cancer I realised that I wasn't in control of his destiny and we were married in a wonderful service in the chapel of St Mary Undercroft, in the Palace of Westminster."

It was just a year after Bob's death when she was first approached about the possibility of standing in Keighley, one of her husband's former constituencies. With the party split over the issue of all-women shortlists, it was hoped that Ann, who had worked as her husband's assistant for 20 years, could help smooth the waters.

On the advice of her daughter, Jane, who told her that if she didn't she would regret it for the rest of her life, Ann allowed her name to be put forward. In 1997, she defeated the Conservative, Gary Waller, by a 7,132 majority, and along with her son, John, who was elected MP for Hornchurch, Ann ensured that the Cryer political legacy continued.

Since those early days when Tony Blair could do no wrong, life for a backbench MP has become increasingly difficult, and Ann, along with others who regularly voted against the Government, has been forced to temper her criticism.

"The huge majority meant we could spend more time in our constituencies because we knew there would always be enough people to push measures through," she says. "Now there's always the worry of defeat, so I tend to abstain rather than vote against proposals. I don't want to be responsible for putting the Government in a difficult situation, although that doesn't mean to say I don't argue."

Few would disagree. Outspoken on the issues of forced marriage and immigration, Ann has been accused of insensitivity to her constituency's Asian community. It something she refutes, and cites the Forced Marriage (Civil Protection) Act she spearheaded as evidence of her commitment to the needs of ethnic minorities.

The legislation, designed to throw a lifeline to those faced with a marriage against their will, comes into effect next month, and it is, she says, her greatest achievement.

"I hope the Act will send a message to those who think forced marriage is acceptable," she says. "Put simply, it will allow the county courts to issue protection orders on the evidence not just of those young women and men threatened with forced marriage, but also third parties, such as the police and social workers."

Following numerous horrific stories of so-called honour killings, most recognise that the issue of forced marriages has to be tackled, and the Act gained unanimous cross-party support. However, for some, her views on immigration have been harder to embrace.

"I think anyone coming into this country must learn English," she says, unwilling to give an inch to those she sees as allowing political correctness to cloud political judgment.

"To me, it's common sense. Each year, thousands of husbands and wives are brought into the country from Pakistan and Bangladesh, and without English they can't get decent jobs, and I don't think that's fair on them or the communities in which they live.

"We will never have a truly economically and financially thriving Asian community until they can communicate in English. It's just absurd to think otherwise, and those that do have an interest in keeping other people down."

While Ann's most controversial moments have been down to her views on immigration, her biggest and potentially most damaging battle of the last
10 years was with BNP leader Nick Griffin.

His decision to stand in Keighley followed the emergence of racial tension in the town following a Channel 4 documentary which highlighted the grooming of underage white girls for sex by Asian men.

It wasn't a pretty election campaign, but as Labour candidates struggled elsewhere in the country, Ann saw her majority rise by some 800 votes, to 4,852.

"Nick Griffin did me a big favour. I didn't think it at the time," she says. "It was just after Tony Blair had sent troops into Iraq and a lot of people were very angry and disillusioned. However, when they realised Griffin meant business, it galvanised many members of the party. One day, just before 9am, when I went into the office there were 45 people standing around getting ready to go canvassing."

While Ann may not be universally liked in Keighley she is, she says, proud to have served the area and admits that when she told the local Labour Party of her plans to stand down, she had to choke back the tears. Fiercely defensive of the role of politicians, much of her recent anger has been directed to those she sees as deliberately sullying their reputations.

"All the furore over MPs' expenses was so disappointing," she says. "The overriding suggestion was that we are all in it for what we can get out of it, and I don't think the tabloids will be happy until we are sleeping rough behind the back of the Army and Navy store.

"When Bob was an MP, his expenses were just enough to cover the cost of a bed and breakfast in a not very nice part of London. John and Jane used to hate going down there, it was just so seedy, and it's absolutely right that we can pay for decent accommodation.

"Yes, there are a few bad apples, but it's just such a shame that we were all tarred with the same brush."

Ann has already made it clear that she will play no part in the search for her successor, who will have a fight on their hands to prevent the seat returning to Conservative control. However, if she has learnt one thing in the last 10 years it's that predicting the outcome of elections is only for the foolhardy.

"Corners have been turned before," she says. "However, if Labour does lose, we can't complain, allowing change is what democracy is all about."

Whatever the result, when the new MP for Keighley is boarding the early train down to London, Ann doubts that she will have any last-minute regrets.

"It's been a lovely job and a real privilege," she says. "But I can't help thinking how nice it will be to flop on the sofa and watch a good film without feeling guilty."