I had read Nell McCafferty’s writing for years, beginning with her sketches from the courts in the Irish Times, written during the 1970s. They were great, and ground-breaking in that they casually punctured the awful pomposity that bedevilled the legal system in Ireland at the time – and in many ways still does.

Those dispatches were often very funny. But also heartbreaking, in that they identified the essential reality that inequality, deprivation, broken homes and lack of education are more often than not the real reason why people end up on the wrong side of the law. Nell was always on the side of the poor and the marginalised.

As her profile grew, she was increasingly influential in the drive for women’s liberation. As far back as 1971, she was involved in what became known as the contraception train: a wonderfully cheeky escapade which highlighted the utterly absurd attitude of Irish politicians – and of course of the Roman Catholic Church to which they bent the knee – to women’s sexual and reproductive rights. She wrote superbly and with great and righteous indignation, about the Kerry Babies case in 1984, and the appalling treatment meted out to Joanne Hayes by both the Gardaí and the judicial system.

With all of that as background, I always felt that she’d be a great fit for Hot Press.

When she finally became available in the early 1990s, it was a huge coup for us that she agreed to write a regular column for the magazine. She was iconic even then: like Sinéad, she was one of those characters who everyone in Ireland knew by her first name. We had always been feminists in Hot Press – but she was the ultimate Irish feminist and it meant a lot to have that voice represented in every issue of the magazine, in such a singular and convincing way.

She wrote a powerful piece on the X-Case, which erupted in 1992, that we turned into a cover story. But that was just one among a series of fine contributions from her, all delivered in a hardcore journalistic style that was pure Nell.

She was a great pro, always filing her copy on time. And she was also good fun to work with. She loved being part of the Hot Press clan – and knowing, as a result, that she was being read by a new generation of young Irish women whom she hoped to, and certainly did, influence. We had lots of good laughs together, and I remember feeling especially moved when she wrote a lovely tribute to Bill Graham, and by extension to Hot Press, in the Sunday Tribune, when Bill died suddenly in 1996.

Nell was, of course, gay – but she held that truth close to her chest for many years, not wanting to risk hurting her mother. So while she was, as has been said elsewhere, fierce and fiery, her relationship with her mother was a dominant influence on her life and how she lived it.

It is, I imagine, difficult for people to understand in 2024 – but the death of Nell McCafferty is a very good moment to remember that Ireland really was a desperately repressive country to grow up in. We had to fight extremely hard to break free from the clenched grip that the Roman Catholic Church exerted on our collective wind-pipes. It took a long time, and a lot of agitation, and relentless advocacy, to get to a place where we could all breathe more freely.

But we did, and Nell was among the ones who really made a difference in that epic struggle – especially in relation to the battle for women’s rights. That campaign is, of course, ongoing. But we all owe Nell McCafferty an enormous debt – one that could never, ever be repaid – for everything that she did in the cause.

Thank you, Nell. It was a privilege to know you, to collaborate with you and to read your unique and marvellously insightful and influential work. Slán leat.