I first met the TV producer Sally Head more than 50 years ago, when the Guardian journalist Frank Keating came to Sunday lunch chez Billington and brought her as his guest. It turned out to be a momentous event, since the next night Frank told me they had decided to get married.
After their eventual divorce Sally became a close neighbour, with a genius for friendship. If one had the slightest ailment, she was the first to offer comfort. If one wrote something she liked, she would call after breakfast. That love of life and people meant she was adored not only by “mates” (her favourite word), but also by the huge talents with whom she worked.
