I first met Jim in 1982, at a social gathering for the new intake of BAP trainees. Out of many people, the one I remember was a tall, good-looking, bearded man with an American accent, smartly dressed in a tweed jacket, tie and Oxford shirt. I remember thinking, ‘that's what a psychotherapist should look like’. I was in awe of his self-assurance, which was genuine yet free of arrogance. When you talked to Jim, you felt he was interested in what you thought, and in what he thought, but not much concerned with what ‘they’ thought; group and tribal affiliations mattered little, for he was his own man.

My wife and I became close friends of Jim and his wife Mary. We spent many evenings together, eating, drinking too much, laughing and arguing. Jim loved to