Terry Maguire outlines his evolution from ‘prize-seeking narcissistic contestant’ to awards ceremony judge
Under the gaze of Cromwell
I joined the queue at the Cromwell Green entrance to the Houses of Parliament in London. The austere statue of the ‘Lord Protector’ loomed large over me as I slowly descended the rampart into security.
I was searched, and without irony awarded a bright orange lanyard which, along with my green tie and white shirt, completed the tricolor. Did Cromwell even notice?
Hindered by inconvenient scaffolding, I got lost and almost exited before being directed to the doors of Westminster Hall. I entered this enormous, awesome space, eerie with history yet noisy with life. I waited here a while, “stood and stared” as William Wordsworth suggested, and took in the enormity of this ancient room so central to UK national life, politics, commerce, and justice.
From St Stephen’s Steps, I was shepherded along a corridor with Pre-Raphaelite décor to Central Hall, where white marble statues of long- dead lawmakers looked down on us and where I met my colleagues. A tap on the shoulder reminded me of the law against taking photographs — perhaps the reason for the scaffold? From here, we were herded on into a reception room to be fed.
Another awards ceremony
For me, pharmacists and friends meeting to celebrate the best in the independent community sector is always a joy — and in these palatial surroundings and with unlimited Premier Cru, it was a privilege. It seems surprising, yet maybe equally unsurprising, that in all the times I have visited this city, passed these Houses of Parliament, I have never once before stepped inside.
After a drinks reception and before our lunch, we heard from our host. We were told that pharmacy, an essential public service, needs more funding. “Did government expect us to starve in providing our professional service to an ungrateful nation?” This hallowed place, no doubt, has a tendency to elicit such grandiose rhetorical pleas.
Our lunch, so fit for a king that I half expected roast swan on the menu, did not disappoint. I caught up with old friends — former and current magazine editors, an industry representative, and an ex-civil servant turned spin-doctor. I had side conversations with presidents, past and present, organisation directors, and wealthy entrepreneurs. What an eclectic bunch we pharmacists are.
And here too, the new generation, full of youth, promise, energy, and enthusiasm. I was so impressed with their imaginative and creative work, which is the reason I remain a judge for these awards — or maybe it is so I can steal their ideas!
Before the awards, we heard from the wonderfully personable Chief Pharmaceutical Officer of Scotland. She positively articulated the plan for community pharmacy in her country under six headings that covered most of the current challenges which exist not only in pharmacy, but also in a health service struggling to address its population’s needs.
And there it was, both speakers of the day setting out differing positions in an attempt to state their problems yet identify common solutions — the essence of democratic politics as much a part of pharmacy as any aspect of national political life.
Now a judge, not a contestant
As I looked around, I thought how very different such events are now that I have matured beyond the prize-seeking narcissistic contestant I once was. That need for public recognition is spent, as is the strong desire to prove something. Now a judge, no longer a contestant, I have assumed the position once occupied by those I held in awe and who, for some strange reason, wanted to be.
It’s an odd process for a young apprentice, viewing their future career and professional role models. It explains the motivation, the hard work, the weird innovations, the questionable contacts, and the gigantic hangovers. Eventually a career turns out to be what it is, and we call it success, or failure. On reflection,
it would have just turned out this way in any case, and of course that is the beautiful deception.
The new guard
Now that I better understand the process, I will avoid the temptation to disabuse these young brave people about the wonderful work they do with great passion and ingenuity — but which sadly will be largely ignored by their profession
It’s an odd process for a young apprentice, viewing their future career and professional role models
and the government. I applaud each of them for their efforts.
One young pharmacist approached me for a chat, saying she recognised me from a pharmacy magazine photograph. Puzzled, yet flattered and intrigued, I spoke with her, only to find she had mistaken me for a long-retired (and dead) chief executive of a now extinct pharmacy organisation.
We continued our conversation, both of us embarrassed and awkward, and to put her at ease I asked her to tell me about her project. She told me she had designed and developed a community pharmacy weight management service. It had been running for six months in her pharmacy and she was getting some great results. I was impressed, I told her — but there was a lot more I didn’t tell her.
Weight management service
Thirty years ago, at a different venue but a similar type of awards ceremony in London, I had submitted my weight management service. A community pharmacy could provide a successful weight loss service, I concluded. I won and my service was reported widely in the pharmacy press. The idea was picked up by two organisations who both sponsored me to further design and refine the model and it was piloted in Coventry, UK, in 10 community pharmacies.
The Coventry results were submitted to another awards ceremony in London in 2009 and again, we won. Back home and on the back of this success, the service became part of Healthy Hearts in the West, where 10 local community pharmacies were commissioned and paid to provide the service, which ran for two years until funding ran out in 2012 and then it was completely forgotten.
During that time, I met David Haslam, a GP with a special interest in obesity and a key member of the UK National Obesity Forum. Together we wrote a book Obesity Management, which covers the theory and the science of obesity, as well as the work carried out for the initial pharmacy pilot. It sold modestly for a few years after publication but it is now largely out of date (but still in print). In October 2025, I got a royalty bank transfer for the grand sum of £1.28, out of which I must pay 20 per cent VAT!
It is somewhat ironic that, with the licensing of the GLP-1s and GLP-1 RA medicines, there is once more an interest in developing a community pharmacy weight management service. Pharmacists seem ignorant or just uninterested in what was done 30 years ago, instead re-inventing the wheel as they start from scratch, only to come up with what was largely the same model as before.
It takes time
All the innovative and novel projects for awards at the luncheon, including the ‘new’ weight management service, are, as yet, unfunded by government. Over time, if they are in the public interest and someone in power, among the ones with the real budgets, deems to take notice, they might eventually be rolled out as commissioned services.
This is what happened to services such as opiate substitution prescribing, needle and syringe exchange, smoking cessation, and Pharmacy First. Change doesn’t happen overnight and over the years I have had to learn humility and patience, and I hope my young colleagues will learn to do the same.
My orange lanyard returned and, with my tricolor decommissioned, I exited the Palace of Westminster into bright afternoon sunshine and a dilemma.
Do I, as I used to, go off for a last drink with my old comrades and talk of how it should be, or do I do the sensible thing and catch an earlier Gatwick train? With a nod to the Lord Protector, I headed for Gatwick.
Terry Maguire owns two pharmacies in Belfast. He is an honorary senior lecturer at the School of Pharmacy, Queen’s University Belfast. His research interests include the contribution of community pharmacy to improving public health.
