'Hello, I'm Hilary.' Britain's favourite GP's voice is unmistakeable as he arrives at today's shoot, fresh from the ITV1 studio.
Assured and reassuring in equal parts - it's a voice that, for nearly 20 years, has comforted and informed us from that font of all knowledge, the GMTV couch. His reputation as an archetypal gentleman with an impeccable bedside manner precedes him. And his demeanour in person - charming but sincere, debonair yet approachable - doesn't disappoint.
It's this niceness that has led to the phenomenon behind his opus-in-progress, What's Up Doc? due for publication in Aug/Sept 2009. The British public like Hilary, they trust him, and they want his advice - apparently without regard to when or where they ask for it, on trains, at parties, in the street... And his book is a collection of anecdotes about these encounters. 'You'd be surprised at how open people are with me,' says Hilary. 'I think it's because they've seen me on TV for years, so they feel like they know me. They're comfortable enough to ask me anything. And, let me tell you, they do!'
So how does Hilary respond to the passers by who throw their many splendid problems his way each day? 'Well if they're very attractive, I'll ask them to get undressed straight away.' You see - he's funny. 'But in all seriousness, there is a lot of responsibility in answering people's arbitrary health queries,' he says. 'A 36-year-old girl at work who didn't have a GP once asked me about a swollen lymph node. While I thought it was probably just that and prescribed her antibiotics - I advised her to see me again when she'd finished the course. When she came back,she seemed to think it had got better, I thought it had become worse, so I sent her to a surgeon friend of mine who diagnosed her with cancer of the tonsils. Thankfully, it was caught early, and following radiotherapy and chemotherapy she's now fine. It would have been so easy just to dismiss the problem, but as soon as someone asks for my advice I'm involved and therefore responsible - and I thrive on that.'
Hilary derives a lot of pleasure from the diversity of people he encounters in the surgery - he still works as a GP in Hampshire two days a week - on the street, and in the studio. Indeed, dealing with individual patient's unique health concerns on a one-to-one basis is what drew him to general practice in the first place, 'when I first left medical school I wasn't sure what I wanted to specialise in,' he says, 'but I began to realise that general practice suited me. Specialising, to me, seemed to be about knowing more and more about less and less.'
And having narrow interests is never something that Hilary could be accused of. His conversation, whether pointing out facets of the London skyline - the location we're in today has a quite spectacular view of the city - or musing on the importance of retaining a bit of vanity in middle age, is always animated and engaging - opinionated but eminently sensible. And he has an encyclopaedic general knowledge that extends far beyond medicine.
It is this breadth of interest and fascination in the world that led Hilary as a young junior doctor to spend a year on the remote island of Tristan da Cunha in 1978. Often described as the most isolated island in the world, the British dependency sits in the middle of the South Atlantic and has a population of fewer than 300 people. There is no airstrip on the island, so arrivals and departures are by very infrequent ship, a set-up that might make most of us feel a little trapped. But for Hilary it wasn't a concern. 'When you're young, you can do that kind of thing - it's all one big adventure.
'And funnily enough, I felt more claustrophobic when I came back to London,' he says. 'I was used to 280-degree views of open sea, so seeing escalators, and watching people having arguments over half an inch of space threw me a bit.'
On his return to the UK, a career as an ordinary GP was clearly not on the cards for the adventurous Hilary, but how did he go from a young doctor with dreams of doing something different to Britain's favourite media medic?
'I wrote a letter to TV-am, as it was then, more or less saying 'gissa job'. I listed what I thought they could do better, pitched some ideas of my own and they must have liked what they saw because I was invited to come and meet the team and then given a two-week trial,' he says. Sounds simple, but what were these ideas that had the ITV bosses clamouring for his time? 'I just proposed that breakfast TV should be talking about common problems - stuff like head lice and how to take medication safely.
It should be dealing with what affects people on a daily basis, rather than just reacting to news stories. And it helped my cause that the director of TV-am, Bruce Gyngell, was the kind of guy who was willing to take a chance and didn't put people in pigeonholes. I mean, Ulrika Jonsson originally started as his secretary before he gave her a break as a weather girl. He was lateral thinking like that.'
'Medical students write to me now asking how to get into the media, but you have to remember that I'd been a GP for a good 10 years before I started on TV. I'd done a year up in Shetland as well as the year on Tristan da Cunha, so I felt I had enough experience to tackle any topic that got thrown at me. The other thing is that lots of doctors don't come across well on television - they maintain a professional veneer, and don't give much of themselves away - and that just doesn't work. I think I'm quite natural and have always come across as someone the viewers can relate to.' And it probably didn't hurt that Hilary's not bad looking either. Does he see himself as a sex symbol? 'Ha! Maybe 20 years ago - but now most of my fans are over 80.'
And so the format we're all used to was born - serious health matters dealt with in an entertaining and accessible way. Hilary recalls one surreal experience that perfectly encapsulates this set-up - a cosy chat on the GMTV sofa with the legendary Dudley Moore about, of all things, how important it is to cook chicken thoroughly if you want to avoid E-coli! And there have been poignant moments on the show for Hilary, too - feedback that highlights what a vital tool television can be in promoting public health awareness and ultimately saving lives. 'After the campaign we did about spotting the symptoms of meningitis, and using the tumbler test to check suspicious rashes, I got letters from parents saying thank you - that if it wasn't for the information we'd given them, their son or daughter wouldn't be here today.'
So what are the most important health messages Hilary feels the British public need to take on board? 'For women, breast awareness is very important, and regular smear tests, of course. Men are often reluctant to go to their GP when they're unwell or for routine check-ups, such as prostate examinations, which are essential for men over 50, meaning they can literally die of embarrassment. And for both men and women obesity is a real worry,' he says. 'Being overweight can lead to so many health problems, from heart disease to diabetes. People need to look at their diets and above all do more exercise.' The topic of fitness is clearly close to Hilary's heart. 'There's a whole population of young people who've never known what it's like to feel fit,' he says. 'And I really believe that's what draws them to look for other kicks - through drugs and alcohol, for example. Schools don't allow kids to express themselves physically any more, often there just aren't the facilities. And as a result the levels of fitness in the UK now are quite frightening. We need to encourage young people to ditch the TV for a few hours and get out and do something.'
'I think another big health concern now is people being low in spirit,' says Hilary. 'Yes, many people are uncertain of the future at the moment, but there's a lot of people who are down because they don't realise what they're capable of - they lack ambition or they don't have the motivation to pursue it. People are often amazed by what they can achieve if they put their minds to it. Instead of humiliation TV we need inspirational programmes like Children's Champions [an awards ceremony that honours those who make a real difference to children's lives], which encourage us to think, if they can do that, so can I!
'I also really believe that people can use fitness and exercise to turn their lives around. I've seen people written off as depressed by their GPs, only to get themselves back on track by going to the gym and getting fit.'
So does Hilary practise what he preaches? 'I've always done a lot of sport,' he says. 'I used to do a lot of rowing and I played squash four times a week. At my age, that can be quite hard on the knees, but I still play once a week, go to the gym and try and do one long swim and one long run every week. I have to do some kind of sport every other day or I don't feel right - it energises me.' And all that exercise means he looks pretty good, too - certainly nowhere near his 55 years. 'When it comes to ageing, a lot of it's in the mind,' says Hilary. 'I look at some women who've had kids and just given up on themselves, and I think you could be 60 and you're only 40. Women in Italy who have children don't become frumpy. I think it's important to still have a bit of vanity. If you've got kids at school, you still want to be thought of as a sexy woman, and not just a mother, don't you?'
This belief in ageing stylishly is clearly something Hilary feels applies as much to men as it does to women, and it's definitely something he takes on board himself. The man is surprisingly sartorially savvy - chatting at length with the stylist about his choice of shirt for today's shoot, and getting into deep conversation with the photographer about his copper-coloured-gold Armani watch, and where to buy it. But in the next breath Hilary is talking about the state of the National health Service - his views, incidentally, are that it's a mixed bag. 'In places the NHS is fantastic, he says. 'When it works, most of us don't know how lucky we are to have it. But it can also be dire. Half the problem is that there's too much management and not enough doctors and nurses. We need to get back to a more personal level of treatment. These days you're unlikely to see the same doctor twice, and house calls are a thing of the past. I would reverse the trend for bigger hospitals, have more smaller hospitals, and fewer patients per doctor.'
And this is the thing about Hilary, he can move with ease from talking tailoring one minute to the problems with British healthcare the next. And whatever he is waxing lyrical about, he is interested and interesting, an old-fashioned conversationalist in the best sense, exactly the same in person as he is on camera, and a bona fide national treasure.
Interview by Charlotte Maugham
