I was told to go straight to A&E
In their first interview since his shock diabetes diagnosis, new Speaker Sir Lindsay Hoyle and his wife reveal it was HER insistence he saw a doctor that might just have saved HIS life
WITH just ten days to go before the General Election, arguably the most important and bitterly fought since World War II, the wife of the new Speaker of the House of Commons, Sir Lindsay Hoyle, was seriously worried.
It wasn’t the electoral fate of her husband, the Labour MP for Chorley since 1997, that troubled her; convention dictates that the other main political parties never put up candidates against the Speaker, so there, at least, he was safe. No, her concerns were of a much more corporeal and sinister kind.
‘Whenever we were out and about in the town, and we’d meet people, as soon as Lindsay was out of earshot, they’d whisper to me “Is he OK?”,’ says Catherine.
‘Even Emma, his daughter, was worried. She was on the phone asking: “Is Dad all right?” Everyone had noticed.’
They were referring, of course, to her 62year-old husband’s dramatic weight loss. He’d dropped nearly three stone in as many months — taking him from a pleasantly portly 14 st to a gaunt and bony 11 st — too light for his 5ft 10in frame.
‘I’d pick him up from the station on a Friday, after a week in Westminster, and every time I saw him, I’d be thinking: “My goodness, what’s happened to you?” When he crossed his legs, it looked like he could cross them again they were so skinny.’
Of course, Catherine, Lindsay’s affable, attention-shunning, right-hand woman in his constituency office — and wife of 26 years — suspected the worst. In her first interview since her husband was elected, the new Mrs Speaker (or Lady Hoyle or just Cath — she’s not fussy) admits she was frightened.
‘I knew there was no way that he should be losing that much weight. I thought it was the ‘Big C’.
‘And then there were his eyes. They are usually so blue, but they were grey and cloudy. He was also slurring his words, yet he rarely drinks. In 26 years of marriage, I had only seen him like that two or three times.’ HAvING
tried and failed to persuade him to go to the doctor — ‘I don’t have time to be ill!’ scoffs Sir Lindsay in those gorgeous, rich Lancastrian tones that have made him a firm favourite in the House — Catherine, 57, took matters into her own hands and booked him a GP appointment exactly ten days before election day on December 12.
It took just minutes to be diagnosed, with the GP saying it was diabetes — and almost certainly type 1. This is the more serious, rarer form, where the body’s pancreas stops making insulin, meaning blood glucose cannot be converted into energy for the body’s cells. Left untreated, type 1 diabetes can be fatal.
Affecting six per cent of the population, coincidentally it’s the same condition suffered by former Prime Minister Theresa May, who injects insulin into her stomach up to six times a day.
He told her of his membership of the ‘Commons diabetes club’ and says she’s been fantastic, offering support and advice. They may be polar opposites politically, but in terms of type 1 diabetes, he’s found an ally in Theresa May.
‘The best advice she had was to carry jelly babies,’ he says.
‘She said those glucose tablets they recommend are absolutely dreadful, and a jelly baby provides the instant sugar rush that you might need (when the balance between glucose and insulin tips dangerously towards the latter, which can plunge sufferers into a diabetic coma).
Consequently, when Parliament reconvenes in January, there will be some stowaways under his robes: a ready supply of jelly babies, as well as syringes and needles which he’ll use to inject insulin as required.
‘While I’m struggling to accept it, I have to do it,’ he says. ‘It’s a shock. It’s not the end of the world. Far from it. I was told about a twoyear-old who’s got it. There is no use moping about it. I should think myself very lucky.’
‘I don’t see it as a weakness at all, I see it as a strength.
‘I’ve got my diagnosis: it’s those people out there who don’t know, who are just like I was, putting off going to the doctor, who I want to reach out to, to make aware. And if Theresa May can go through all that she did, all that trouble on Europe and the most horrendous situation on Brexit, being pilloried by everyone in the Commons and standing her ground, showing no weakness. Well, if she can cope, then I most certainly can.’
The relief for the Hoyles was immense. ‘I honestly thought I was going to lose him,’ says Catherine.
‘Yes, she’d got the insurance policies out,’ laughs her husband.
His GP was very concerned at how severe his condition was. Sir Lindsay recalls: ‘I was told to go to A&E straight away: if I didn’t, I could collapse at any moment.
‘I said I can’t do that — I’m in the middle of a General Election!’ The circumstances were undoubtedly exceptional. Somehow, after an emergency dose of insulin and a crash course in diabetes, he was allowed to return to political duties.
The General Election came just weeks after Sir Lindsay, who had been Deputy Speaker to the previous incumbent, John Bercow, for nine years, had weathered and won the ‘nastiest, most bitter, disgusting election contest he’d ever known’ to appoint a successor.
He’d been vilified on an MPs WhatsApp group, where everything from his place of birth, education (he left school at 16 and started his own textile and print business) and — the real body blow — apparent frail health were picked apart and used against him, to bring him down.
Refusing to name those spreading the poison, he says: ‘I was the favourite and I was the person they wanted to stop. They joined forces against me. They suggested that because I was from the North, I wasn’t up to it. It was so nasty. It went on and on. I’ve fought seven General Elections and none has been as nasty as this.’
Consequently, he thought the stress, long hours and erratic eating patterns were to blame for his weight loss.
‘I’d frequently get up and eat breakfast, then have nothing until 9 or 10pm.
‘ I’d keep myself going with several cans of full- sugar cola, which I now know is the worst thing I could be doing. (Just one can contains nearly ten teaspoons of sugar.) I’d also be overcompensating and find myself tempted at the end of the day by things like sponge pudding and custard.’
Catherine smiles knowingly at this confession. She and Sir Lindsay are now getting to grips with what life as a type 1 diabetes sufferer will entail. Meals will be regular and controlled, protein-rich and low in sugar to keep blood glucose levels
He’d lost 3 stone — I feared it was the big C
steady, avoiding the dangerous peaks and falls that come with high calorie ‘binges’ followed by long periods without food.
Where it came from is a mystery. Although there are links to stress, it’s mostly down to genetics and bad luck. Sir Lindsay suspects he was the latter.
His schedule over the coming weeks is filled with appointments with dieticians and specialist clinics. He hasn’t touched a can of cola in weeks.
In the New Year, Catherine will be joining him when they move permanently to the Speaker’s vast, grace and favour apartment in Westminster, where she’ll be able to keep a close eye on him.
He’s started injecting insulin once a day already, and is hoping shortly to be fitted with the same, high-tech blood sugar monitoring band that Theresa May uses. This piece of kit will mean he won’t have to endure the constant — and painful — thumb-pricking to keep a check on his blood glucose levels throughout the day.
The device works using a fine needle that sits permanently under the skin of the arm, constantly monitoring levels that can then be sent to an App on his phone and alert him to any dangerous peaks or falls.
‘They had wanted to fit it on the day of the election but I pointed out that I had enough on my plate that day,’ he says.
Sir Lindsay and Lady Hoyle are speaking to us in their house in a small village on the outskirts of Chorley. His credentials as the local MP are underlined by the fact that from his lounge window you can see his primary school across the fields.
A small, neat and unassuming woman, with the same bewitching accent as her husband, albeit a much quieter version (when she can get a word in edgeways around him, that is) the new Mrs Speaker could not be more different to her predecessor, the colourful Sally Bercow.
Catherine and Lindsay met through friends locally when she was working in sales for the
Scottish and Newcastle brewery. After a stint serving as a local councillor in Addlington, she now runs the constituency office in Chorley — and worries about her workaholic husband.
Another role is looking after the family’s menagerie of pets — most named after past and present politicians. They’re all in attendance as we meet.
There’s Boris the grey parrot, demanding attention with squawks of Dad’s Army- style ‘ Don’ t panic!’ from his cage in the corner. He’s also said to shout ‘Order! Order!’ in homage to his master’s role as Speaker, but he isn’t doing requests today.
As we speak, Maggie, a huge 15-year-old tortoise, ambles across the front room into the kitchen while Gordon, the terrifying looking but complete softie rottweiler, looks on disinterested.
Betty, a terrier named after the first woman Speaker, Betty Boothroyd, yaps at delivery drivers bringing flowers to the house from well-wishers, while Patrick, their magnificent Maine Coon cat, wanders out into the garden to wreak carnage among the local squirrel and dove population.
Amid this jolly scene, however, is a reminder of the tragedy that haunts the Hoyle family. Betty, the terrier, is still wearing the frayed glittery collar given to her by Sir Lindsay’s daughter Natalie, who took her own life just before Christmas 2017. She was only 28.
Natalie had been in a long-term coercive relationship which she continued despite her father’s desperate pleas for her to break it off. He tearfully paid tribute to his daughter in his acceptance speech, back in November.
Last week, he and Cath — together with Sir Lindsay’s former partner, Miriam Lewis, Natalie’s mother — visited her grave in Essex to lay a wreath. THErE
are photos of Natalie and Emma — his daughter from his first marriage to Lynda, his childhood sweetheart— plus Emma’s children Austin, seven, and Sophie five. There are also photos of his father Doug, 89, a former Labour MP, who is now Lord Hoyle, with the first Blair Cabinet. His father lives at home with them.
In the games room, there is a bar, which they inherited when they moved in and which started its life as a four poster bed.
It’s decorated with mini busts of every prime minister since Neville Chamberlain. Only Boris Johnson is missing. He is on order but apparently difficult to get hold of.
Christmas morning was spent doing his usual routine of a morning hospital visit, then to church to help give out meals before returning home for a lunch with his family and grandchildren.
When he returns to Parliament next month, Sir Lindsay has plans to introduce a voluntary screening programme for diabetes for 10,000 staff who work in the Commons. He is also going to insist that the Commons employs a full-time doctor for the first time to complement the work of a nurse who is already employed there.
‘When do they get the chance to visit a doctor? It’s impossible,’ he says. Such a service, he believes, could save lives.
The couple will also move into the Speaker’s spacious four bedroom apartment, overlooking the Thames. But it will be only a month before they move out to allow for essential refurbishment, including rewiring and checking for asbestos. CHrISTMAS
was a very abstemious affair this year, with strictly monitored mealtimes — and most certainly no cans of cola.
But he’s discovered to his delight that his beloved Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls — a firm favourite from Grandad Jim’s sweetshop in town, where he is a regular customer, now do a sugar-free version.
He is unmoved, however, by the local delicacy Chorley cakes, which Catherine serves with tea. He has to keep his distaste hidden when called to judge local Chorley cake competitions.
But one food he can still indulge in is his favourite John West red salmon sandwiches. Catherine used to stock up for him at the weekend and he would pass them on to catering staff in the MPs dining room so they could make him salmon and cucumber sandwiches. These days, the staff now buy it for him as part of his regular eating programme.
The new Mrs Speaker is also adjusting to a different life. She will be doing her bit in Speaker’s House meetings and greeting dignitaries and charities.
Although Lady Hoyle is known for her shyness in front of the cameras and a preference for shunning the limelight, her eyes sparkle when she recalls an occasion during President Obama’s state visit in 2011, when Sir Lindsay was Deputy Speaker.
Part of the delegation was the Oscar-winning actor Tom Hanks, who asked if he could have a tour of the House. Catherine, a huge fan, was delighted to oblige.
‘In the Commons chamber, he went straight to the dispatch box, adopted a wonderful English accent, and did a very convincing impersonation of David Cameron,’ she recalls with glee.
We leave laden with Chorley cakes and with the squawks of Boris ringing in our ears, while the new streamlined Speaker resumes his duties. As Theresa May has shown, diabetes does not stop the business of government.