A tribute to Judith Chalmers OBE

The news of Judith's passing at the end of May hit everybody very hard. The whole country loved her, and it hit the Taverners even harder. She had been a huge presence in the charity for so long, having been a Taverner since 1979 and President from 1992 to 2001.

She and I shared the same birthday, 10 October, along with a motley gang including Midge Ure, Charles Dance and the late Nicholas Parsons. If we met on our birthday, as we often did at one function or another, I always serenaded her with Hey Jude, which she tolerated good-humouredly, grinning with her fingers in her ears, but always cut me off before I got to the "na-na-na" bit.

She was actually older than me, although everybody always assumed I was much the older. She still looked beautiful well into her later years, and she was fun – so much fun.

During my two-year presidency, we shared lots of stages together. There was much banter, and she always got the last word. But then she was totally at ease on a microphone or in front of a camera. Joining the BBC as a teenage girl, she presented Woman's Hour, Come Dancing and Family Favourites, but it was undoubtedly Wish You Were Here...?, which she hosted from 1974 to 2003, that made her a national icon.

People trusted her. It wasn't just a celebrity jolly jaunt; if Judith told the audience it was a good place for a holiday and good value, people went there in their thousands. She was one of the best-known faces in the country, giving rise to Del Boy's rhetorical question: "Am I right, Rodney? Does Judith Chalmers have a passport?" That is the ultimate accolade.

Yet however busy she was, she always made time to talk to the public. Not all celebrities do, but she accepted it as par for the course.

I once shared a dressing room with her before a Wish You Were Here...? celebration, and she had bits of paper all over the walls, the chairs, even the lamp.

"Whatever's all that?" I asked.

"My speech," she said. "I write it all down, then go and do it."

And she went out to the huge throng outside without a single note and spoke brilliantly, to much applause, for more than half an hour.

My strangest and funniest memory of Jude was a Taverners trip to Guernsey. The plane was late and we'd all sat around looking at each other's passports for bored amusement. Eventually Jane and I went through to do a bit of shopping. It was only when I got past customs and security that I realised I'd come through showing Judith's passport.

I waved frantically at her from behind the security man's head, trying to explain what had happened, and without a second thought she went marching through using mine. He never even looked at it.

"There you are," she said. "Dead easy."

Dear Judith, we are all the richer for having had you pass through our lives, but the poorer for having lost you.

All our thoughts are with Durders, Mark, Emma and the whole family.

Chris Tarrant