I DIDN’T GET A SHIN Y NEW HIP ...THEY JUST REPAIRED THE OLD ONE AND POPPED IT BACK IN!

A major operation, ten days in hospital – but Mary Berry tells Frances Hardy she’s on the mend after the ‘first-rate’ NHS stepped up to the plate...

Dame Mary Berry is quite delighted by the food she was served during a recent hospital stay. Piping hot, nutritious and thoughtfully portioned for both small and hearty appetites. ‘It really tempted you,’ she says. ‘You hear about hospital food being awful, but we had a menu every day – several choices – and I particularly remember the meatballs with mustard sauce. And what was so clever was that you could choose the size of your portion. If you’re feeling pretty groggy and sorry for yourself you just want a little. And there was always fresh fruit and a choice of sandwich.’

Who’d have thought the nation’s most beloved TV baker and exacting cookery judge would be quite so complimentary about our habitually maligned NHS catering? But Mary’s praise for the food served at the Royal Berkshire Hospital, Reading, is matched by her gratitude to staff – from doctors and nurses to cleaners – who looked after her during a tenday stay this summer. Today, a walking stick and slight limp are the only signs of the surgery she underwent in August for a broken hip.

Stylish in navy slacks and a fuchsia pink lobsterprint blouse, she is imperturbably bright and energetic. At 86 she’s working as hard as ever. She has a new book coming out, Love To Cook – ‘I’ve written more than 80 books,’ she declares, surprised herself at this prodigious output – and there’s a BBC2 TV series to go with it. Weekend readers can share in Mary’s simple, confidence-boosting recipes as a diverse and delicious selection – from Hoisin Chicken With Cashews to Roasted Vegetable And Coconut Curry and her favourite Pear And Almond Tart – is published in the magazine this week and next.

While many her age have sunk gratefully into sedentary retirement, Mary is as alert as ever, dispensing tips, sharing culinary skills and generally revelling in the joy of imparting to others the love of cooking that has informed her whole working life. And to cap it all, just two months ago she had a major operation. How does she manage it? Perhaps it’s her optimism. Resilience, fortitude and good humour – the qualities that saw the nation through the war – are Mary’s hallmarks.

The story of her accident is proof of this. It’s punctuated by humour and little homilies – there are valuable lessons to be learned even from misfortunes – and she doesn’t moan about a thing. Why, she’s even cheerful about her three-hour wait for an ambulance!

‘We have raised beds in the garden and on a Sunday afternoon I’d gone out to pick the last of the sweet peas when I tripped over some bricks and went down really hard,’ she recalls. ‘I had a new knee a few years ago and I thought, “Oh, I’ve hurt my knee.” I sat quite still. I’d encourage everyone to have a phone with them always, when they’re out dog-walking, crossing a field… with a phone you can always get help.

‘First I phoned my husband Paul, who was in the house watching cricket. I don’t think he heard it ring – or if he did he thought, “Blow that. The cricket’s more important.”’ She laughs. ‘I knew my daughter Annabel was playing in a tennis tournament so I phoned my son-in-law Dan instead and he said, “I’ll be with you in ten minutes.” He saw me and said, “I’ll get an ambulance.” I said, “Oh, no, I’m fine,” but he overruled me. He rang for the ambulance and they said, “We’re very, very busy.” It was Sunday afternoon and there were lots of football injuries and whatever.

‘Dan went into the house and got lots of coats and put them all round me. My two dogs, Darcy and Freddie, immediately came and sat on either side of me and wouldn’t leave me. We decided not to tell my husband because it would have been quite a shock for him. Dan was concerned about the wait but I said, “I’ve got you. I’m warm. We can wait patiently.”

‘We waited for three and a half hours, until 6pm, and quite right too! I was perfectly happy. There may have been a road accident. I quite understood that they were busy – and Dan was caring for me. He kept me chatting. When the ambulance arrived Dan told Paul. It was a shock for him, seeing me go off. They took me to the Royal Berkshire Hospital and they were so good at explaining. One foot was turning out and they said I’d broken my hip.

‘They operated next morning, first thing, and I was never nervous. I didn’t get a shiny new hip. They just repaired the old one and popped it back in. And oh, they were all lovely! I had complete confidence in the doctors, and the nurses were brilliant. Even with their masks on you could see their eyes smiling. Everything was done to such a high standard; even making the bed. As a Girl Guide I learned hospital corners, and there wasn’t a ruck in the sheets. Nothing was too much trouble.

‘So I haven’t a single complaint. Even the girl who cleaned took a

‘I got my own room, maybe they thought I’d be trouble’

pride in it. They told me, “Ring the bell if you need anything,” but I tried not to. There was no need. Everything was first-rate. And I was so lucky. It was all NHS and I had my own little room – maybe they thought I’d be trouble [she winks] – but they were always popping in. The nurses brought photos of their lemon drizzle cakes and pictures of their children making my cakes. I’m always delighted. They say such nice things.’

If proof were needed that Mary is a thoroughly good egg, here it is: even during her hospital stay she was thrilled that others were enjoying her recipes. She hasn’t taken anything stronger than paracetamol for pain relief and attributes her good recovery to ‘lots of physio. I’m still hobbling but I’m getting better. I’m trying to walk in a straight line. In a month I’ll be filming – I’ll be fighting fit by then – and I can stand for as long as they want me to.’

She attributes her stoicism to her upbringing: her father, Alleyne Berry, a surveyor and former mayor of Bath who helped set up the university in the city, never fussed. Mary recalls him gashing his head open during a DIY project, but refusing painkillers or an anaesthetic for the stitches because he was looking forward to Sunday lunch ‘and a nice bottle of wine’ – which would have been forbidden if he’d had analgesics.

It comes as a surprise to learn that young Mary, born in 1935, was a tomboy. The middle of Alleyne and his wife Marjorie’s three children, and the only girl, she’d build dens, graze her knees and devise lethal ways of heating water for picnics on makeshift stoves. A three-month spell in hospital with polio when she was 13 also ‘toughened her up’.

But the quality that has stayed with her since the war years – when her parents, determined never to buy anything on the black market, cultivated their own food – is frugality and a dislike of waste. The Berrys dug for victory, gave over the rolling lawns of their glorious Regency villa to vegetable growing, and kept a goat for milk and a pig for meat. Sugar,