Selwyn Glick was a consultant general surgeon in Burton-on-Trent, Staffordshire. He was born on 7 February 1934, the son of Joseph Glick and Rosie Glick née Rose. His decision to become a doctor was his mother’s: as he put it ‘every Jewish mother wants her son to be a doctor’. He trained at Birmingham University. Unfortunately, his mother was not alive to see him qualify. He then became subject to call up for National Service. The officer examining him diagnosed nasal polyps and rated him B-, meaning he was unfit to fight even in the event of a nuclear attack. Though at first sight this disability might appear to have been a technicality, it proved to be highly significant because his nose would not stop bleeding when he was sitting his primary fellowship examination. Unsurprisingly, this was the only examination he ever failed. Initially his ambition was to become an obstetrician and gynaecologist. He therefore decided to first go to Newcastle to gain experience in general surgery. He continued in Coventry, Dudley Road and at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham. By this time, he had changed his mind and became fully committed to becoming a general surgeon, however, Harold Wilson’s decision to reduce the salaries of consultants made him cast his eyes abroad. Selwyn took up a post as a partner in a practice in Winnipeg, Canada. Being a true generalist with an extensive range of skills, when he encountered a ureter blocked by a colonic tumour, he simply dealt with it. This was much to the chagrin of his urological colleagues, who felt they had lost out on their fees for doing this part of the operation. In the UK he had published papers on the place of modified radical mastectomy. The Canadians were less advanced, and there was not even an insurance code for this procedure. This made it impossible for him to carry it out. He felt this was letting his patients down. Frustrated, Selwyn returned to England with his family and took up a consultant post in Burton-on -Trent. He was far from a run of the mill, provincial, general surgeon. Shortly after his appointment he sutured a stabbed heart, saving the patient’s life. In court, the judge asked him if this was a serious injury! As well as publishing papers on rare surgical conditions that he encountered and resolved, he was also a national leader in the development and promotion of day surgery. It was, therefore, unsurprising that he was appointed vice president of the surgery section of the Royal Society of Medicine by the world-renowned Harold Ellis. His work ethic was an example to all. On a one-in-two rota, called in one winter night, he had to leave his car in a snow drift and walk miles to the hospital. Travelling to his home in France he would dictate letters on the way to Portsmouth and post them back to his secretary for typing. Selwyn was a charismatic and hugely enthusiastic leader. He treated everyone equally with respect and understanding. Nothing was ever beneath him. On one occasion, when I was his surgical registrar, he and his family attended a barbecue at my home. I was on duty when a call came through for me to go into the hospital to perform an appendicectomy. It was only with the greatest difficulty I persuaded him not to stand in for me so that I could stay at the party. He had an excellent bed-side manner, happy to spend the necessary time with patients to ensure they understood what was happening and were happy with the proposed treatment. He was equally popular with his local GPs, not only because of the vast number of patients he dealt with, but also because he trusted these colleagues in the community to refer back any problems that arose, rather than waste patients’ time routinely following them up in the hospital. His workload and patient through-put was staggering, but he always had time for family and friends. He was a hugely generous host and great fun. He was always interested in other people and how their careers were progressing. He seldom talked about himself. He loved technical equipment and not just in the operating theatre. He was a very early user of computers and loved his cars. He had an open top car in France and enjoyed taking people on tours of his adopted country. In Burton-on-Trent, I well remember an afternoon after water bombing us in his swimming pool, he bundled so many of us into his Range Rover that some had to sit on the rear door with their legs dangling in the air. Laughter was the order of the day. Retirement was no time to rest. He completed three Open University degrees in French, geology and literature, as well as a computing course. He was the founder secretary of the British Association of the Var, a welfare organisation in the Var region of France, a post he held for eight years during which he wrote, produced and distributed the first 57 newsletters and the agenda and minutes for 80 meetings. Though disabled by Parkinson’s disease, he was mentally alert and fun to the end. His wife Sheila supported and nursed him at their home in France until his death. He was survived by two daughters, Rosalind and Carolyn, a son Jonathan and two stepsons, Guy and Michael, and a stepdaughter, Lara. His stepson Neil predeceased him. He was close to them all. Selwyn died on 5 May 2023. He was 89. He will be sorely missed by everyone who knew him.