Abstract
On a cold and dull Autumn Friday in 1972, I was among hordes of Behaviour Changers/Modifiers/Engineers/Therapists (all to become Psychotherapists) making their way from the four corners of Britain to the Middlesex Hospital in London. We were all going to a meeting to discuss the setting up of a National Association for those interested in Behavioural … whatever. When I arrived, I was refused entry unless I paid £3 annual membership fee to the very smartly dressed bouncer on the door who claimed to be the Treasurer. “But I thought the meeting was to decide if we are going to form an Association and, if so, to elect the officers!” My protests were in vain, as would have been my 460 mile day trip if I had not parted with my £3 — I have never really mastered contingency management!
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