TRIBUTES TO MOORLANDS DOCTOR
A DOCTOR who served the community of Leek and Waterhouses for many years has died.
Dr Bruce Richardson, aged 73, was born in Portsmouth. His father was a Royal Marine commando.
He met his future wife, Sally, at school in Essex and moved up to Sheffield to train at the medical school, where he qualified with honours in 1971.
After doing several houseman jobs in hospital departments he moved back up to the Peak District with the family as they missed the beautiful countryside and the walks. He became a partner in Leek with Dr Saddler and Johnson, eventually moving into the newly built health centre in Fountain Street.
In 1979 after moving house to Waterhouses he took over the single handed practice from Doctor Hall. He worked hard to expand the practice and make it viable and together with Dr Vince Cooper worked tirelessly for nearly 19 years looking after patients in the surrounding Staffordshire Moorland villages.
When he retired he spent the last 15 years helping Sally in the Bookshop at Stanley Street in Leek.
In his younger days he played rugby for Leek whenever he could.
Sally said: “Bruce loved Leek and was very happy to raise his five children here.
“He also established Churnet Valley Books and published many local history books. I think as a doctor he listened to many of his patients’ stories about their lives and always said it would be a shame if this local history was lost forever. So he worked with many local authors to produce some excellent books.”
Doctor Richardson, who died at his home in Leek on May 3, leaves his wife Sally, five children (Nicola, Ginny,
David, Amy, and Charlie) and eleven grandchildren.
▶A poem has been written in a tribute to Doctor Richardson by Leek resident Mark Johnson, entitled The Book Doctor.
“The eager climb of the wooden stair – no appointment necessary however minor the need for care – and the knowing that there was always more knowing waiting for you there than Bruce would dare to share in just one go.
Not that he was a hoarder of facts – of books perhaps – more a doctor carefully doling the medicine in prescribed doses lest the patient clear the shelves, glut themselves with enthusiasm; each urgent question met with a light smile about his eyes or his lips: Ah yes, I think we might have that one. If not, we can order it, let’s see.
The problem diagnosed or a different cure secured another random need would assert itself, to which the same reply: a response rich with a lifetime of care and one of love of birds and stones and fields and trees; all knowledge held lightly but bound tightly together in a world of paper leaves at the top of the stair.”