Albert Cilia-Vincenti writes:

Leo Said had a soft spot for the unusual and the controversial. We qualified in medicine together in 1969 and, while practically all of us were impecunious, without today’s student stipends and having to pay university tuition fees, Leo always seemed to own a car. Maltese summers always found Leo with a big smile accentuated by brilliant white teeth against a beautifully tanned background.

When we qualified we all stayed on to undergo our junior doctor training in Malta, but Leo had to be different. He got a German scholarship to study German and pathology, and left Malta immediately. His years in Germany were not without various tribulations. After finishing his five-year pathology training, the German authorities demanded that he return to Malta, which he didn’t wish to do. Leo spent some anxious years being hassled by German immigration authorities, but he finally was permitted to stay on.

Leo remained engrossed in the vicissitudes of the Maltese scene and stayed in touch with a number of Maltese colleagues. I happened to pursue a similar career to his in surgical pathology and we were always both interested to learn how different training and work conditions were in Germany and London.

In recent years, Leo’s insatiable interest in Maltese affairs shifted to the internet’s social media where, I understand, his love for controversy flourished. Unfortunately, this might have made him new friends but may have also lost him old ones. However, I found him to be such a loyal friend, never forgetting to phone at Christmas, Easter and on my birthday, in spite of my poor memory for his.

He loved cooking and was an especially accomplished gardener. There is something special about the inner self of people who love gardening. He bore the crushing burden of knowledge of incurable disease with great resignation and some occasional humour right to his last days. He leaves behind Gabriele, his German wife, and his son Stephen. You deserve some rest, my friend.