How past leaders ran the UK from a sickbed
Boris Johnson is just the latest in a long line of prime ministers to run the UK from their sickbed. That Margaret Thatcher, famous for her stamina, did so is perhaps unsurprising. In the summer of 1983 she had an operation on a minor abrasion in her retina, which had become partially detached, at the Princess Christian Hospital, Windsor, less than two months after her election victory that June. She continued to run the government as she recuperated for several days.
Harold Macmillan’s prostate operation in 1963, when he was 69, was of extreme political importance because it coincided with – and perhaps precipitated – his resignation from office. Having planned to lead the Tories in the next election, he was taken ill with prostate problems on Oct 7 1963. It’s rumoured he wrongly thought he had inoperable cancer; in fact, he knew it was benign. Still, a week later, working from his hospital bed, he started taking soundings as to who his successor should be. On Oct 18, the Queen came to his bedside to accept his resignation. He was succeeded by Alec Douglas-home.
Anthony Eden, Macmillan’s predecessor, was also affected by bad health during his short spell in Downing Street from 1955 to 1957. A botched gallstone operation in 1953 damaged his bile duct – and left him reliant on benzedrine, an amphetamine, while in office.
The most famous patient in No 10, however, was Winston Churchill, who was 80 when he resigned in 1955. He suffered a mild stroke in 1949, when he was out of office. A second, worse stroke hit him in 1953 in Downing Street. Although he was paralysed down one side, the effects were concealed from the public and, within weeks, he was able to stand again.
Churchill was a prodigious drinker, too, although, as he said, “I’ve taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me.” A bigger problem was his depression. He was able to hide this, too, and, at times of national crisis, his “black dog” took a back seat.
Occasionally, political ill health has its compensations. While recovering from an illness, William Gladstone fought off the prospect of losing his voice during one of his budgets by knocking back a mixture of sherry and beaten egg – perhaps, apocryphally, the origin of the tradition that chancellors can enjoy a tipple when delivering Budget statements.