Dr John Thurston
John Collard writes: One year in the 1980s a group of us, including John Thurston (obituary, July 28), were due to go to the annual 24 Hours of Le Mans. A couple of days before we were due to leave for France, and after a rather “overindulgent” evening with friends, who included John, I decided to top up my tan by spending a few minutes under an old sun tan lamp that I owned. Unfortunately I fell asleep and, because the lamp had no safety timer, I spent far longer under it than I should have done.
The following day my face became increasingly swollen and red and blisters began to develop. I immediately phoned John, who was head of accident and emergency at Queen Mary’s Hospital in Roehampton, and he told me to come in immediately. When I arrived he ensured that I jumped the queue on condition that some of his student doctors could see me as well. “This gentleman is suffering second-degree burns — and it is the price he is paying for vanity,” he said, before covering my face in silver sulfate cream. “ I can’t join you at Le Mans looking like this,” I said, to which he retorted, “Don’t be so wet, the lads will enjoy a good laugh at your expense.”
Dr Michael Bending writes: In the 1970s “JT” was my senior registrar as I trained at the old Westminster Hospital. It was required that we were on parade at 7am to prepare case presentations for his ward round at 8am. The round had to be sharp and focused so that he could be in the Barley Mow by noon to conduct his “private consultations” with the Westminster lags.
“Dead” as opposed to “passed over” or “deceased” was one of his more acceptable mantra for his patients that didn’t make it, but in the ward office it was “brown bread”. This in no way belied his humanity, and the dedicated care he provided to rich and poor alike.
Jehan Sadat
Andy Wood writes: A couple of days after the prime minister Jim Callaghan returned from a trip to Bangladesh, India and Pakistan in January 1978, I noticed an EgyptAir delivery van leaving Downing Street, where I worked as a press officer. The front hall of No 10 was piled high with boxes, probably about 20, of top grade Egyptian oranges. The scent was pervasive and delightful.
Advertisement
The penny dropped: on the return flight from Asia our RAF VC-10 had stopped at Aswan, Egypt, where our party was received by President Sadat and his first lady (obituary, July 12). Talks and a delicious meal followed. Somebody in our group complimented Jehan Sadat on the quality of the oranges at dinner and she had organised the delivery of the best “party bag” I ever had.