As a trainee I soon noticed that Felix's opinions about patients at the Maudsley Monday morning conferences were perhaps the best — always to the point, practical and wise. To me he emerged as the psychiatric diagnostician. Later, as a colleague, he won my respect. I marvelled at his academic output despite sustained hard clinical work. I remember my pride when we became on first name terms!
In retirement he, with Kathleen, extended great kindness and warmth to his friends, keeping in touch through thick and thin, and dismissing his infirmities with his typically somewhat incongruous sense of humour.
During the last year of his life Felix made an extensive revision of his magnum opus on creativity and psychiatric disorder, which involved detailed scrutiny of over 600 biographies of famous men. I was privileged to read the manuscript. Let us hope that it will be published posthumously.
Felix was a man of exceptional intelligence, he was modest, self-deprecating and a pioneer of a difficult speciality. Typically he set his mind against memorial services or other ephemera to mark his passing. This will not obscure the great affection he inspired.
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