Bill Gaskill had a talent for friendship. While he was always honest and unsentimental, he was also kind, thoughtful, funny and good company. I first met him as an undergraduate at Oxford (which he left without regrets or a degree but with a considerable amount of reading and directing theatre under his belt) in 1952. Forty-seven years later, we found ourselves to be neighbours in Kentish Town, London, and spent many happy years playing Scrabble in the garden and enjoying cheerful meals and parties.
Jameson’s was his drink and the Guardian his newspaper. Both had to be brought to the Marie Curie Hospice in Belsize Park until his last days; and there was a roster of more than 20 devoted friends to make sure this was done. He will be very much missed.
