I first met Mr Morley when he was on the interview board for an orthopaedic registrar job at King’s College Hospital in London in August 1980. I got the job. Morley was the spine consultant at King’s and his interest was in correcting spine deformity. He was a pioneer in his field, having designed the metalware used for straightening curved spines in those early days of surgical correction.

The Webb-Morley rods were in universal use for a couple of decades. He was a gifted surgeon who set the roadmap for others to follow, and clearly was not one to be constrained by limitations. To his understudies, he was an ideal tutor forthcoming with sharing his experience, but his biggest asset was his ways of communication, with his colleagues and with his patients.

In 1989, the local health authorities invited him to help expand the scoliosis service on the island, and there started a 25-year romance with Malta. He visited every April and November and many were privileged to be his patients and experienced his natural but unique way of interacting.

He was liked by the locals because here was the “English Professor” who made time to speak to them, share a joke and share their concerns, and show a genuine interest in what they were up to in their everyday life. Over the years, he became known locally and recognised and saluted after hours when outside the hospital.

The “English Professor” made time to speak to them, share a joke and share their concerns, and show a genuine interest in what they were up to in their everyday life

He was visibly touched by the tokens of gratitude he received for his work here. He got to know the island well and used to drive himself and his wife Mary around both islands to his favourite restaurants. He even experienced the floods in Msida one November, when his car floated. He rolled his trouser legs up, got soaked to the bone but used his sailing experience to use the current to push the vehicle across the road and make his way up St Luke’s hill in time for his operating list. The theatre greens saved him on that occasion. 

Morley was a private individual; the quintessential eccentric pipe-smoking English gentleman with a stern look but a kind disposition, and of course, a smirk. It took more than a decade to penetrate the façade, and for him to change from Mr Morley to Tim. Tim was fun-loving; he appreciated the local food and doted on the ‘ħobż biz-żejt u t-tadam’ which ‘Sister’ the nurse/nun in charge of outpatients gladly produced and patiently taught him to pronounce.

Sailing was his other passion, and he sailed across the Atlantic on multiple occasions. He spotted the other love of his life at the Ta’ Xbiex Yacht Marina. He sailed Kwa Heri all over the Mediterranean. He was a keen skier and Zurs in Austria was his haunt. He happened to be in Zurs when an avalanche struck and sealed his hotel’s entrance for a couple of days. 

Morley loved his work, and gave many years’ work for no remuneration. His contribution to our health service was appreciated and acknowledged by the authorities when he was awarded the Ġieħ ir-Repubblika medal in 2011. It was very sad news to hear from Mary about his passing in mid-January.

To his wife Mary, who he fondly referred to as the ‘Home Office’, and his daughter Nicky and son Mark, I offer my and the many Maltese patients’ gratitude and condolences. He will be fondly remembered by many on the island and sadly missed by all those who got to know him well.