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The purpose of this paper is twofold: to explore the existing evidence around dementia services and interrogate the overarching UK policy development relating to service inclusion of black and minoritised groups. The paper will go on to identify the implications for the dementia wellness pathway and make recommendations regarding how services can be more inclusive.

This paper examines the policy/practice landscape around dementia care provision and observes if lessons can be learnt to improve health outcomes for people living with dementia from black and minoritised communities.

A review of dementia policy demonstrates how opportunities to improve the awareness, diagnosis and post-diagnostic support for minoritised communities are being missed. The outcomes of this mean that individuals are denied vital treatment and support, which could enhance quality of life and delay the progression of dementia.

The authors’ premise is that not meeting the dementia support needs of less-heard communities has negative financial as well as social and health-related outcomes and has wider resonance and implications for all stages of the dementia wellness pathway. Moreover, there is a legal responsibility for public services to provide culturally sensitive, responsive, appropriate and available care, to all people, without discrimination.

This paper offers a valuable review of policy and practice around dementia care in the UK and makes recommendations to improve health outcomes for people living with dementia from black and minoritised communities.

The purpose of this paper is to report on an interprofessional (IPE) student training scheme recently conducted in three care homes across the Northwest of England. The intervention was designed as a feasibility study to explore the impacts such schemes have on residents, students and care home staff. Additional lessons emerged that contribute to the design and direction of future IPE initiatives in other care homes and care settings.

This case study outlines how the intervention was designed and implemented and the findings from its evaluation. This paper uses Biggs’ (1993) presage–process–product framework to evaluate the process of setting up care homes as a site of collaborative learning.

Collaborative working between stakeholders is necessary for the successful implementation of IPE in care home settings. The process is complex and requires communication and commitment across all levels of engagement. For this model to grow and have a beneficial impact on older people’s lives, there are layered factors to consider, such as the socio-political context, the characteristics of the individuals who participate and diverse approaches to learning.

This case study reports the subjective views of the research collaborators. While this raises the potential for bias, it presents an “insider” perspective of the research process and offers learning that might be beneficial in efforts to run future IPE training schemes.

To the best of the authors’ knowledge, no other research studies or published interventions have been identified that explicitly address the experiences of implementing an IPE training scheme in UK care home settings. This paper will therefore be useful to academic researchers, individuals managing student placements and to health and social care staff who wish to learn about of the value of IPE learning schemes.

LOOKING BEFORE AND AFTER : BEFORE Opening, as we do, a new volume of THE LIBRARY WORLD, especially as with it we reach the venerable age of sixty‐one, does suggest retrospective and prospective view. The magazine is the oldest amongst independent library journals, though others existed before 1899 in different forms or under other titles than those by which they are known to‐day. When at the end of last century it was felt that utterances were needed about libraries, unfettered by uncritical allegiance to associations or coteries, librarianship was a vessel riding upon an official sea of complacency so far as its main organisation was concerned. It was in the first tide, so far as public libraries were concerned, of Carnegie gifts of buildings, not yet however at the full flood. The captains were men of the beginnings of the library voyage; who were still guided themselves by the methods and modes of the men who believed in libraries, yet feared what the public might do in its use of them. Hence the indicator, meant to show, as its name implies, what books were available, but even more to secure them from theft, and to preserve men and women from the violent mental reactions they would suffer from close contact with large numbers of books. There were rebels of course. Six years earlier James Duff Brown has turned his anvil shaped building in Clerkenwell into a safeguarded open access library in which he actually allowed people, properly vetted, to enter and handle their own property. This act of faith was a great one, because within a mile or so some 5,000 books had been lost from the Bishopgate Institute Library, which has open shelves, too, not “safeguarded”. Brown's “cave of library chaos” as a well‐known Chairman, who by one visit was convinced of its good sense and practicability, called it, focused the attention of scores of librarians—so much so that Brown had to beg them to keep away for about a year, so that the method might be better judged after sufficient trial. It also focused the attention of the inventors of the indicator, who, presumably, had more than a benevolent interest in its sales. So there was war against this threat and for several years this childish contention raged at conferences, in private conversations amongst library workers, and in letters to the press aimed to convict Brown and all his satellites of encouraging dishonesty, mental confusion and other maladies public. Hence Brown, L. Stanley Jast, William Fortune and others initiated this journal to teach librarians and library committees how libraries were to be run. That, in extreme brevity, is our genesis. For sixty years it has encouraged voices, new and old, orthodox or unorthodox, who had something to say, or could give a new face to old things, to use its pages. Brown was its first honorary Editor, and with some assistance in the later stages remained so for the thirteen years he had yet to live. Nearly every librarian of distinction in his day has at some time or other contributed to these pages. So much of our past may be said and we hope will be allowed.

THE question of the advisability of exercising a censorship over literature has been much before the public of late, and probably many librarians have realised how closely the disputed question affects their own profession.

IN all this rush for bargains in first editions, and the feverish anxiety on the part of many collectors, pseudo and genuine, there is a natural desire to look ahead, and to discover the big writers of to‐morrow, because it is their books of to‐day that will be the rare and valuable items of to‐morrow. But there's the conundrum It is easy enough, if we are rich enough, to buy, shall we say, Arnold Bennett's Old Wives Tale for £50 or more, because we are constantly learning how few copies there are about, and because it is really a good first edition to have. The same may be said of the rare things of Shaw, Barrie, Wells, Galsworthy and others. To select an unknown writer, and to say to oneself: his first book is going to be a notable and closely sought for book to‐morrow, is, indeed, a difficult task which few of us can encompass. Yet it is done. There are those happy ones who said it about Shaw in his early days, of Tomlinson in his, and they now possess real worth in two ways. I do not ever want to forget the literary value of these, and other writers: there is, indeed, value there; but there is the other way—the economic value. Some wiseacres, in their shrewd vision and intelligent and intellectual anticipation, hug themselves in bibliographic glee in that these two ways are theirs. Fads and fashions, conventions and popularisms, come up and pass these good people by. They blazed their own trail, and, in their quiet and contented way, they proceeded to their own contented end, and now they may justifiably revel in their own fore‐sightedness. Blessed are they among the growing army of book collectors.

The enormous growth in publishing in Victorian England is surveyed from its origins in the eighteenth century to the demise, or survival, of principal publishing houses in the twentieth century. The major publishers ‐ Longman, Murray, Smith Elder, Chapman and Hall, Colburn, Bentley, Heinemann, Methuen and Macmillan ‐ are discussed in relation to their authors and publishing successes and failures. The relation between the full‐length book and the major literary journals is discussed and the capitalist, risk taking nature of publishing as a commercial enterprise is emphasised.

OUR publication date precludes more than the beginning of our study on the Library Association Conference which, from the point of view of numbers, has been one of the largest. We shall continue in our next issue such comment upon it as the importance of the subjects under discussion would seem to warrant.

FOR GOOD and ill, most of my first adventures with books—the events that really started me off on the Great Paper Chase—happened thanks to some local library or other. Things really started happening during my twelfth year, when a friend of mine at the Grammar School (I was a ‘Technical Hitch’ myself at the time) lent me a book he had borrowed from the school library: a collection of stories by H G Wells. I've never really been the same since reading that book: for one thing, I've never been able wholly to believe in the Two Cultures controversy. But Wells was my first ‘god’. Searching for my own copy of the stories—shyly, hesitatingly—was like searching for the milk of Paradise.

SEPTEMBER this year will be unique in the history of the librarian in England in that for the first time in nearly sixty years the annual conference of the Library Association has already become a memory only. There are those who profess to believe that the conference should be restored to the autumn months. It may be suggested on the other hand that the attendance at Margate lent no assistance to that point of view; indeed, the Margate conference was one of the most pleasant, one of the most successful, of which we have record. Nevertheless, if it can be proved that any large body of librarians was unable to be present owing to the change of month, it appears to us that the matter should be considered sympathetically. Although no one holds any longer the view that one week's attendance at a conference will teach more than many months' study in hermit‐like seclusion—the words and sentiments are those of James Duff Brown—because to‐day there is much more intimate communication between librarians than there was when that sentiment was expressed, there is enormous value, and the adjective is not an exaggeration, in one large meeting of librarians in body in the year. It is an event to which every young librarian looks forward as the privilege to be his when he reaches a high enough position in the service; attendance is a privilege that no librarian anywhere would forego. And this, in spite of the fact that there is usually a grumble because the day is so full of meetings that there is very little chance of such recreation as a seaside, or indeed any other, place visited, usually provides for the delegates.