Days after the lockdown began, my teenage daughter and I were walking past Trinity Court when we, on a whim, called out for Sally. She came to her window and we had a long chat. This Talking to Sally Routine became a regular for us and certainly made up for the lack of usual contact - on my way back from work occasionally, for a chat and cup of tea. Every time I sat in her kitchen, latterly without Bernie, I would be reminded of our first meeting, in 1985, shortly after moving into Trinity Court. In the intervening years, I took on various roles with Sally: close friend, doctor, confidante, and even a psychiatrist after Bernie’s passing. Not that I wished for anything in return, but my reward was her friendship, unconditional love, spontaneous kindness and of course, her wonderful cooking. Sally was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.  I could go on to describe many instances, but will save that for when we can all meet, one day, for a proper celebration of her life. Finally, a few days ago, when on an evening walk in the dark, I was surprised to see a light in Sally’s window; I couldn’t help indulge in a little magical thinking and almost called out to her. 
Rest in Peace, my dear, dear friend.