Yesterday writer and film director Simon Fitzmaurice died. He had motor neuron disease and despite all the odds he went on to father twins, write a a book and direct his original screen play – My Name is Emily.
I did not know him, but I had a part in his film. A naked part – where I and 99 other people ran screaming into the Irish sea on a damp Tuesday afternoon at the end of summer in 2014.
I went to the premier of the film the following year in Galway and my naked posterior was still there for all to view.
He was an amazing man – married to an equally amazing woman, Ruth.
RIP Simon and prayers for his young family.
