frank 20 July 2009
In a showbiz way, my nephew died today – and that’s not a good thing at all, whatever way it occurs – I played Frank McCourt’s mean Aunt Aggie in the wonderful Alan Parker realisation of the buke ANGELA’S ASHES. It was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life in that I could not believe I landed that part (I happen to know there were Hollywood stars and starlets queuing for it) and also what a lovely experience it was too. I was not on the set anytime Frank was but I met him at a launch of a book 15 Irish authors (including me) had written for AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL (YEATS IS DEAD, is it by the by) and loomed over him as he looked a little frightened when he realised who I was, in another setting as ‘twere (don’t worry it was all kindly). The novel is bonkers and well worth a look – Roddy Doyle wrote the 1st chapter, little realising that everyone else would kill off all he had seeded and then put it up to every other author to follow in a like manner (I was most obedient to the lovely Joseph O’Connor, editor extraordinaire, ‘cos a) he is a GOD and b) I was a newbie and c) I hated to see him cry, asked me to come onboard. He had intended to write the last chapter himself but HAD to step in halfway through to stop the BLOODY SLAUGHTER and so it fell to Frank to do the honours at the end. When we, all but one, read at the launch in Dublin it was wonderful to hear Frank’s gentle tones announce that he was a Limerick man and therefore a Gentleman – I believed it then, I believe it now – we are the poorer for him passing and have lost a GOOD storyteller.
