In these dark days I thought our congregation would appreciate a tale of extreme kindness and philanthropy. October 4th is the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, he is my favourite Saint  but this is not about him, it's not even about a new teenage Saint Carlo Acutis who is buried in Assisi. No this 'Saint' is much closer to home. His name is Morris Blasker who was a Doctor on the Isle of Dogs  when I was young. Doctor Blasker really understood the struggles of the poor, he had be born in Lukin Street in Stepney I believe  into a Jewish family. He was so kind and gentle when I went to visit him he would greet me with 'Hello Little Lady' - he must have known I wouldn't be tall ever! He was super intelligent, a talented musician he loved opera and classical music, but his great love was boxing , with horse racing coming a close second. ( You see what I did there ?) He also went to greyhound racing ( that was a great night out then). So "First things first" he would  say and send me to the newsagents to get the Sporting Life Newspaper!

You might think where is the Saintliness in that? I'm not even sure Saintliness is a real word but bear with me...

Doctor Blasker had no idea of time and regulations, his surgery hours began early in the day, and extended until late at night. His surgery was upstairs in the family home he shared with his brother and niece in Manchester Grove. There was a waiting room but you could always  hear the television  blaring from his consulting room. You told him your symptoms  in a loud voice to be heard above the racing on the telly! No data protection in those days! When  I was child prescriptions and sickness certificates had to  be paid for. Many people couldn't afford to pay for these even though there was a new National Health  Service.  He hardly ever charged people for certificates. He would visit homes and if the parents had given him money for certificates he would pass it to the children as he left the house. 

He had been a boxer at University and taught the local boys boxing at the Dockland Settlement  Community Centre. He visited  people on the streets giving  aid to all regardless of race and  creed and to social outcasts in the years after the second world war which was a blessing  and a kindness. He walked everywhere  it was rare for people to own cars then. One night a man met the Doctor who was obviously very cold wearing just a thin jacket, when he asked  the Doctor where his overcoat was he told him he had given it to someone whose need was greater!  One Saturday night my mother was very sick and in a lot of pain. About 2 in the morning  we borrowed a neighbour's car and rang the Doctor from a phone box, his brother answered and said he's out on a call but he will probably be walking back now. We drove around and sure  enough there he was, when we brought him to our house he said "Oh my dear you have kidney stones, I had them when I was boxing,  they are agonising ,on a scale of one to ten they are an eleven!' We called an ambulance, again from a phone box  and he went to the hospital with my mum. Dad tried to pay him but the payment was an orange and a handful of nuts ( it was near Christmas ). 

He kept up with the times and would send you straight to hospital if he deemed your illness was serious. In 1971 I had just moved into a maisonette and was telling him how the former tenants were heavy smokers and how the nicotine stains had made the white paintwork orange. He said I hope you had rubber gloves on because nicotine is a poison  and can be absorbed through the skin, I thought of him years later when people used nicotine patches to give up smoking. The dear man was revered by the people of the Isle of Dogs and when he died of a heart attack (in his surgery ,working) money was raised for medical equipment for the Royal London Hospital in his memory. There is a road named after him near the Mast House Terrace Stop  for the Uber Riverboat, it is aptly named Blasker Walk. 

Barbara Liddell