My father, Thomas Johnston, who has died at the age of 94, was a quiet hero. He became a GP in 1949, joining his father’s practice in Farnworth, a small mining town near Bolton. He often spoke of the dramatic difference the founding of the NHS in 1948 made to the lives of their patients. Before that, the practice had little income because his father would often not charge his poorer patients. This meant he was unable to afford to retire until 1954, at the age of 85.
Tommy continued as a single-handed GP working long hours, including being on call overnight and at weekends. The surgery was attached to our home. Before the common use of telephones made appointment systems practicable, we would often return from school past long queues of patients, including miners squatting on their haunches. He eventually joined a group practice, which meant we saw more of him, but he always missed being a true family GP. He eventually retired in 1984.
Dad never boasted nor complained about how hard he worked as a GP. Similarly it was only in later life that he talked to us about his wartime service. He had been born at home in Farnworth, son of John and Mabel. The outbreak of war in 1939 coincided with his starting to study medicine at University College, Belfast. In 1942, although he was in a reserved occupation, he felt impelled to interrupt his training and enrol in the RAF as a pilot serving under Bomber Command and Special Operations. He was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross in 1944. He spoke with nostalgia about the experience of flying over the moonlit chateaux of the Loire, but also, tearfully, of witnessing at night the silent emptying of bedside lockers belonging to “lost” fellow pilots.
In January 1946 he met the love of his life, Kathleen, at the Manchester Opera House. They were happily married for 66 years. When Kathleen developed symptoms of what was much later diagnosed as Alzheimer’s disease, Tommy devoted himself to caring for her. His indomitable spirit and love of life ensured that they both continued to travel, regularly visiting their five children, as far afield as America. Last year, Kathleen moved to a care home, where Tommy later joined her.
He is survived by Kathleen, his five children, Timothy, Gillian, Bridget, Karen and me, and three grandchildren, Patrick, Frances and Stuart.
