Overlooking the misty beauty of London's Regents Canal, lunch with David El Kabir, the founder of Wytham Hall, a pioneering hostel for seriously ill homeless people, is uplifting. When El Kabir's wife died in 1969, leaving him with two very young children, he says: “The veil was lifted. I ceased being a complacent academic and became a firebrand.” And adds, in one of the many powerful references that pepper his conversation, “Like when Siegfried tasted the dragon's blood and understood the language of birds.” Medicine was fortunate to attract and keep him. An Iraqi émigré, he studied medicine (at Cambridge, UK) because his parents “wouldn't swallow philosophy or literature”. From a Baghdad Jewish family, El Kabir remembers his father, Governor of the Bank of Iraq “Taking the finance minister to hospital, shot dead. Blood was cheap, tempers hot. Just like today.” At Cambridge, El Kabir formed and conducted an orchestra, almost switched to music, and says of house jobs: “I hated them. The hierarchy, the unquestioning tyranny, more to do with the army than medicine.” After his wife's death, and the death of his research mentor, an invitation to train as a family practitioner saw El Kabir join a London practice. While struggling at first: “I had seven patients on my books, sold the house, worked nights to make ends meet”, he says, “I loved it”. With a group of medical students, he founded Wytham Hall in west London; it has just celebrated its 20th anniversary. A registered charity, it accommodates 14 patients while a nearby house and flats offer longer-term housing. More than 2200 people who might not have survived on the streets or who were determined to make a radical change, such as stopping drink or drugs, have stayed there; it also gives medical students and junior doctors opportunities to live and work with the homeless. Since the hostel opened, El Kabir has lived literally above the shop. Although he looks and seems much younger, he is 77 years old, and I wonder how he copes with an environment that would be tough for someone half his age. I ask about his involvement at Wytham Hall now. Perhaps as an adviser? “Horrible word, advice is for elderly aunts. No, more a catalyst, keeping everyone talking.” Fragility and precariousness have run through El Kabir's life, yet he has solid views on how to live it. As he says: “Whether over lunch, or between doctors, patients, whatever, it's like tennis. Is your aim to prolong the game into an interesting interchange of skills, making rallies last, or just winning? If that, choose a worse opponent and serve aces.”