It really was a privilege to work with Simon. He brought very special qualities to both the newspaper and our workplace – an irrepressible charm, a rather unholy sense of humour and a very healthy disrespect for authority, all of which helped make him one of the best reporters I’ve worked with. Not to mention his steel-trap mind and, of course, his fluent, incisive and often devastatingly effective writing. He was as much at home reviewing his beloved films as unravelling the politics that emanate from the city council like foul air from Mordor.

As a journalist, he had one of the best bullshit detectors around. He had little time for those peddling snake oil, whether they were in pursuit of personal fortune or world peace. Snake oil was snake oil to Simon, no matter the flavour. That was one of the things that set him apart as a journalist.

I think of all the journos I know, he would be the one least open to capture – of any sort. He was keenly aware of the need to remain detached and that alone made him invaluable to a community like Waiheke where, while there is extraordinary community consensus, there are also vigorously competing communities of interest.

Over many years, including two periods as editor, Simon managed the challenges of the role and took the responsibilities that came with it seriously. He loved the island and its people and would often agonise over the hard decisions that all too often have to be made in community journalism.

To hit the Wednesday deadline together every week was like surfing on a wave into shore – not without its hazards but always getting tossed up on the beach in the end. We had a great team. And, of course, there were the after-deadline parties. No-one can let their hair down quite like Simon could.

But beyond all that, he was engaged with the island in many ways – as a husband and father, as a musician, as a friend to so many of us. As someone said, everyone is talking about Simon this week. He was a very self-deprecating fellow and I can almost hear that sceptical, inquiring voice asking, as it did so many times, ‘Oh, yes. And why, exactly?’

Greg Treadwell, former colleague and Gulf News editor