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The purpose of this paper is to describe how providing a wide variety of visual images facilitated discussions amongst older informal carers in focus groups.

In all, 72 older (aged 70+ years) informal carers took part in nine focus groups discussing their experiences as older carers. Participants were provided with a wide selection of different, freely available printed images which included abstract and humorous images and countryside scenes.

These older carers appeared to enjoy using these pictures to facilitate introducing themselves and to describe their diverse caring experiences. Sharing often challenging experiences using the images and visual metaphors appeared to support the group to discuss difficult, sensitive issues in often light-hearted ways.

This approach appeared to enhance data collection with these older participants in an enjoyable way by helping them focus on the topic at hand whilst facilitating them to give succinct descriptions of their experiences. However, further research is needed in order to be confident of the transferability of these findings to other older participant groups discussing different topics. Only informal carers were included and there were no direct comparisons with groups without images.

Using commonly available visual images in focus groups with older carers appeared to be an effective means of encouraging participant discussions and engagement.

To the authors’ knowledge, this is the first attempt to describe how using visual images facilitated focus group discussions with older informal carers. It therefore adds to the literature.

My first memory is of my mother’s first memory of me She’s told me this story so many times that I feel like I’m telling the story from my own memory. As if I remember being in the delivery room… “Boy I remember that labor I had with you! Lord Jesus! You was the worst of all of ’em.” “You came out weighing ten pounds and five ounces.” “And once you came out, the doctors and all the nurses just looked at you like they was in shock. Then they kept calling other doctors in to come and look at you.” “But they wouldn’t let me see you. My legs was still propped up with that sheet in the way. So I couldn’t see nothin’.” “And they just kept calling more doctors in, and all the doctors kept saying the same thing:” Doctors: We’ve never seen anything like this! “But they still wouldn’t let me see you. Finally I just started yelling, ‘let me see my child. What’s wrong with my baby?!’” “The doctor finally looked at me and said ‘Ma’am, this is the cleanest baby I’ve ever seen.’ They gave you to me and you didn’t have any fluid or blood on you. Not one drop.” perhaps all the blood was used up from hundreds of years of doing nothing but bleeding When the doctor cut the umbilical cord, how different was that cut from the cut his great, great, great, great, great-grandfathers made when they cut us off from our African mother culture and all that was life-giving to me? and my life… a testimonial to the blade My earliest memory is of being two or barely three years old, walking into the kitchen and watching my mother change my little brother’s diaper. I asked her a question about the diapers. I can’t remember what I said, but her response was “I’m going to put YOU in one of these diapers, if you pee on yourself again.” I don’t know why she was so upset, seeing that when they brought us here on enslavement ships, they packed us like animals, forcing us to piss right where we were – on ourselves and on anyone next to, or below us. And it seems like I’ve been pissing on myself and everyone around me – ever since. And it seems I’ve been getting pissed on, ever since. So, what’s the big deal mama? I remember the first time I was with a girl. I was three or four. Her name was Chasa Palamore – and she was three. Her brothers pushed me and her into doing it once in the alley and another time in their oldest brother’s basement bedroom. I don’t think we ever really did anything; just naked and grinding. And it seems like I’ve been making love in alleys and dark hidden-away basements, ever since with far-away people still watching and cheering me on. yeah, over and over I attempt to make love but after the applause dies down everyone – including me – just ends up getting fucked and I can trace this one too, back to the white slaveowning sucker he wanted Lucile to have high priced babies so he forced me to fuck her And that can’t be washed away with constitutional suds when you create human breeding Farms, you produce studs and we still walk the streets, reproducing the culture whitey produced in us. I remember being four or five years old, living on 68th & Justine. Until I left home at 17, every place I ever lived was all black. The only white person on the block was my mother. But we still think she was a black woman trapped in a white woman’s body. I remember when me and my brothers would get into fights on the block. All the kids would gather around and sing: It’s a fight! It’s a fight! It’s a Nigga and a White. Gimme skin Gimme skin The Nigga gonna win Being 100% certain that I was black, the song never bothered me much. I’d just stand there amazed thinking, “These kids have got to be pretty stupid if they think I’m white.” These were the same folks I played with everyday. I remember having this thought that I didn’t have the vocabulary to express. The thought was like “Hey, I’m one of y’all, you idiots, Don’t you get it? How y’all gone let this shit split us up like that. Later I was to learn about the house Negro and the field Negro, and how our enslavers used “divide and conquer” to cause division and disunity amongst their captives. For hundreds of years, they’ve used our differences to cultivate division and hostility among us. They used everything from age to skin color to divide us. So when I stood in the middle of Justine about to fight, I was experiencing the lingering effects of the latter. I remember the Columbus song in fourth grade: In 14 hundred, ninety-two Columbus sailed the ocean blue He sailed, and sailed, and sailed, and sailed! and found this land for me and you it was cold blooded murder I was a helpless nine year old child and they created that vicious lie and thousands more just like it and fired them into my defenseless mind it was cold blooded murder murdering my sense of self murdering my identity preventing the possibility that I could connect to a source of pride severing the connection between me and all that could give life to my spirit yeah I know of other truths now but can a fact learned at 30 overcome a lesson internalized at seven? I remember the winters on 43rd Street – a block east of King Drive. I remember my mother sending me and my brother out in the snow with a bucket. We’d fill the bucket up with snow, and stop to have a snowball fight and play in the snow. Then we’d take our bucket full of snow up to our apartment on the third floor, and set the bucket by the stove so the snow could melt. Once the snow melted, we opened the back of the toilet, and poured the water in, so we could flush the day’s waste. I remember eating oatmeal for every meal. Oatmealf or breakfast Oatmeal for lunch Oatmeal for dinner and for dessert? Oatmeal cookies and I didn’t think about it then, the way I think about it now. I didn’t know I had a right to live better than that I remember reading my first book. I was 19 years old and in the Navy. It was Stephen King’s “Pet Sematary.” Shortly afterwards, I’d read my first non-fiction work. It was the Autobiography of Malcolm X. In Malcolm I found the answers to all the questions the white world could not answer. Like the question of why in the fuck was I 19 years old and just starting to read! Much of what we accomplish is motivated by the belief that others have in our ability. I went through an educational system that couldn’t even identify my abilities let alone believe in them. Low tracked and labled I get sad when I think of the potential that was wasted in those years that I languished in a system that destroyed my belief in my own worth. Though tragic, that’s nothing compared to the potential destroyed by capitalism and slavery. What would our future African civilizations have looked like if Europeans hadn’t murdered us and our continent? Would we have performed cold fusion by now? Perhaps we would have produced a renewable energy source that didn’t harm the ozone layer, or pollute the air we breathe. If sons of slaves could produce a revolution in blood storage and perform the world’s first successful heart transplant, what could we have done by now if capitalism, slavery, and racism hadn’t gotten in our way? as a result, the most beautiful thing we’ve been able to produce under this oppressive system, is our struggle against it I remember last week Just this past thanksgiving I was at my brother Mike’s house. Mike is the oldest, then Carole, then Tony, then me, then Sean. Everyone but Sean was there and Mama had made her ridiculously delicious Sweet Potato pies. When I was little, whenever mama made those pies, people we know would come from all around the city to get a couple slices. I remember one year, lot’s of folks were in and out of the house, and a lot of pies came up missing, and soon they were all gone. We always thought someone was stealing them. But that night, this past Thursday, Mike finally told us it was him. Mike didn’t grow up with us. He and Carole lived with their aunt, and they were even poorer than we were. He was visiting with us that year in the late 70s. He told us he ate seven pies and hid two of them. We all had a very good laugh about that. But someone asked a question that night that never got answered “Why in the world did you eat SEVEN pies?” It’s not like Mike was overweight. He was slim, like me. Here’s what I believe America makes life very uncertain for Black people so many times we get all we can while it’s there, cause you don’t know if it will be there tomorrow Mike grew up not knowing where his next meal was coming from. you figure out the rest Hey, maybe that’s why I was born so clean maybe I knew that life on the outside of the womb wasn’t so certain so I consumed all I could while I was in there I remember tomorrow I saw it a few times in my dreams My great, great, great, great-grand daughter was reminiscing with her younger brother about how they’d wrestled in the grass when they were children. Then they discussed the meeting they have tomorrow with other teachers in the New Afrikan School System, in the United Republic of New Africa, in the southern and eastern regions of what used to be called the United States. They met and poured a libation calling out the names of all the ancestors who struggled to liberate our people I remember the work I must do to ensure my name is called

This book is a policy proposal aimed at the democratic left. It is concerned with gradual but radical reform of the socio‐economic system. An integrated policy of industrial and economic democracy, which centres around the establishment of a new sector of employee‐controlled enterprises, is presented. The proposal would retain the mix‐ed economy, but transform it into a much better “mixture”, with increased employee‐power in all sectors. While there is much of enduring value in our liberal western way of life, gross inequalities of wealth and power persist in our society.

Stress has become the industrial disease of the 90s. Wellbeing is the in word used to market products or services when applied to reducing stress and its effect on our general health. In recent years this has been a major topic of interest with over £6 billion every year in the UK being attributed to absenteeism and reduced work performance directly caused by stress. The European Union is now drafting guidelines for member states on the prevention of occupational stress and until now the main emphasis has been towards tackling stress in the workplace.

IF THE Guinness book of records is still watching these columns, I can now tell them that, after all, Mrs Carole Bignell's hope (NLW February p30) that she had established a record by registering her daughter as a library member at the tender age of two weeks must be dashed. Ken Bowden, District Librarian at Bacup, Lanes (where he gets his copy of NLW a little late), writes that not only did one of his neighbours enrol his daughter when she was five days old some years ago, but that Ken's own son entered the world in February 1977 and was enrolled at Bacup on his third day. Any advance on three days?

The purpose of this study was to examine the support available from identification through to recovery for survivors of modern slavery and human trafficking in the United Kingdom (UK) following the introduction of the Modern Slavery Act in 2015.

Twenty-nine semi-structured individual and group interviews were conducted with non-governmental organisations (NGOs) providing direct support to survivors and law enforcement engaged in initial identification, rescue and support.

Thematic analysis identified that survivors' experiences of support and negotiation of state processes is challenging, requiring lengthy periods of waiting. This experience is often compounded by variations in knowledge of processes and systems by front line staff, resulting in negative impacts on outcomes for survivors.

The small number of research participants could be regarded as a limitation but is common in qualitative, exploratory studies. A larger study should be conducted to test these initial findings. The implications propose a revision of policy especially for asylum-seeking survivors.

The study was conducted two years after the introduction of the Modern Slavery Act, 2015, during a period in which gaps in processes and support for survivors were beginning to emerge. This study offers a timely assessment of these gaps and argues for a review of policy and its implementation.

This paper stems from aspects of on‐going research into nurses' pay, grading and training, building upon fieldwork and documentary research conducted in the course of completing an ESRC‐funded doctorate and preparing a commissioned research report for the ILO (jointly with David Winchester). The paper focuses on causation behind the current chaotic state of government pay policy with respect to nurses' pay and seeks to enrich the current debate around attempts to decentralise pay for nurses (and for the NHS and public sector more generally). In particular, it is argued that government policy in the 1980s and early 1990s has built on and exacerbated past policy problems and has exhibited a number of fundamental contradictions, predicated upon differing representational forms for nurses (professional associations and unions, and TUC‐affiliated unions) and the more general unwillingness of successive governments to act as ‘model employer’ with respect to actual outcomes in nurses' pay. It is concluded that the current policy preoccupation with decentralisation must be understood in the light of underlying continuities, but represents a reactive and flawed approach.

The present research aims to investigate parental attitudes towards using either cloth or disposable nappies, to better understand whether and how pro‐cloth initiatives might impact parental decisions.

Focus groups were conducted with both cloth and disposable nappy users to gain a better understanding of the factors that underlie their choice. Interviews were analyzed using thematic analysis.

The paper finds that parents using disposable nappies believed they were marketed as offering a popular, efficient, healthy, good value system. They acknowledged the environmental impact but rationalised this by referring to the equivocal nature of these consequences, and the ability to off‐set this by engaging in other pro‐environment behaviours. Parents choosing cloth nappies did so initially because they were more environment‐friendly and cost‐effective and disposables were disliked. Once using cloth, parents noted additional benefits: performance, fashion, formation of bonds with other users, and getting a buzz out of using them. This reinforced their reasons for continued use.

Cloth nappies are unlikely to gain mass appeal, but findings suggest a bigger take up if parents are better informed, and subsidies are provided to reduce set‐up and laundering costs to tackle the “ease of use” barrier. The positive aspects of cloth nappies should be better promoted.

Marketing initiatives need to buy into the current “designer parents” trend and play to the aspirational, fashionable aspects of cloth nappies.

This paper, the first to report on parental attitudes and decisions regarding both nappy types, could inform public policy and marketing decisions.

“All things are in a constant state of change”, said Heraclitus of Ephesus. The waters if a river are for ever changing yet the river endures. Every particle of matter is in continual movement. All death is birth in a new form, all birth the death of the previous form. The seasons come and go. The myth of our own John Barleycorn, buried in the ground, yet resurrected in the Spring, has close parallels with the fertility rites of Greece and the Near East such as those of Hyacinthas, Hylas, Adonis and Dionysus, of Osiris the Egyptian deity, and Mondamin the Red Indian maize‐god. Indeed, the ritual and myth of Attis, born of a virgin, killed and resurrected on the third day, undoubtedly had a strong influence on Christianity.

THIS IS A polemical statement, not intended to inform, but to argue a case and try to get some sense of reality into the mass of recent writing on the purpose of the public library service. It is taken for granted that the reader is already familiar with a good deal of the general background.