I first met Mary in 1978, as I negotiated a year's lease on 32 Somerset Street, next door to “Devon House” which was her home and surgery.
I first met Mary in 1978, as I negotiated a year's lease on 32 Somerset Street, next door to “Devon House” which was her home and surgery.
One was immediately struck by her energy and vitality – reflecting the private school maxim, “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might.”
As her neighbours, tenants and, for our children, patients, we saw her in many roles and moods, not least in her delight at the antics of our little daughter, Rebecca, who entertained in her waiting room and even in her bedroom.
As time passed, we learned more through her and about her – of her childhood as daughter of a school boarding house matron and membership of the remarkable Mullins clan on her mother's side; of her military service guarding the South African coast; of her training as, first, a nurse and subsequently as a doctor following a serious accident to her leg.
“I couldn't be a nurse, as they have to be on the move for 10-hour shifts,” she told me, “so I trained as a doctor instead.”
And what a doctor!
Thousands upon thousands of cards in her files show that she attended to over 50 000 different people.
The poor “paid once and the rest was free” for each treatment.
With Ken Gough, she performed minor operations at Settlers' Hospital – alternating as surgeon and anaesthetist.
As she wound down her practice, she added sessions at Fort England to her work load.
When we went out together political campaigning (for reasons well known to many, I always drove!) she would gleefully point to a passer by, “I know him – I delivered him!”
Though not one for Councils or Committees, she was always eager to help – hosting parties, donating generously, prodding and demanding more action from the politicians.
She also turned her formidable energies into work for the Cathedral.
As a property owner, she had learned many aspects of the painter and decorator trades, and with some assistance from her two "men" and good advice from "Duppy" Meyer, she painted the inside of the Cathedral from top to bottom.
The weak leg did not deter her from climbing the scaffolding to the high vaulted ceilings.
Keeping accounts of the expenditure was not her strong point – the Parish treasurer might beg for invoices, but Mary simply preferred to pay for most of the materials and labour herself.
Small wonder that when the Rotarians instituted their “Citizen of the Year” awards, Mary was the first woman chosen.
For work far beyond the call of duty in her profession and generous commitment to the welfare of the community, she was the role model and measure against who future “Citizens” would be compared.
Further recognition came in the form of her being awarded membership of the Order of Simon of Cyrene – the special honour bestowed by the Anglican church on lay persons.
Typically, her response was one of puzzlement, “Why me? I've just helped out when I can.”
Every Don Quixote needs a Sancho Panza, to provide for the personal needs of the knight errant and to give quiet guidance as well as loving and loyal support.
This appreciation would be inadequate without mentioning Gillie Thurberville Davies, who has been the devoted nurse, companion and friend to the redoubtable Mary for much of her life.
Mary Knowling died peacefully at 4.45am on Thursday 31 January, at the age of 89.
