Explore the vast range of titles available.

After graduating in zoology at Bristol University, [Janet Marianne Wilson] joined the Factory Inspectorate in 1967, following in the footsteps of her father, William Moore, who became deputy chief inspector of factories. Janet spent most of her working life in Manchester where, in 1977, she was seconded to the Equal Opportunities Commission to look at how health and safety law impacted on women at work. She played an important part in the removal of restrictions on the hours and type of industrial work women could do.

[Rosalind Richards] was born at Springhead and returned to live here in 1997, determined to rescue the garden from dereliction. \"My parents, Rolf and Marabel Gardiner, spent their lives making Springhead a centre for rural regeneration,\" she explains, \"and the garden was seen as integral to the estate's order.\" Rosalind's inspiration, and many of her prize plants, came from Nori and Sandra Pope at Hadspen. \"I love their garden and the things they teach, such as the resonance between gardens and different art forms. As a musician, I admire the rhythms they have established at Hadspen, and I placed the arbors to invite you to pause so that, like an orchestrated planting, they affect the speed with which you tour Springhead.\" Rosalind's childhood at Springhead was filled with music, dance and drama - her mother used the garden as a setting for festivals and in the 1950s bought a Venetian rotunda for the lakeside, knowing it would make a perfect backdrop to the enactment of legends and masques.

I throw coffee grounds straight on to the flowerbed by my back door to avoid a pyjama-clad hike to the compost bin behind the shed.

In 1951 Cecil Verey made the house over to his son, and Rosemary, [David Verey] and their young family moved in. \"Children - four of them by 1949 - and horses claimed more of my attention than gardening,\" she wrote. \"But I was becoming aware of the garden and its seasons.\" An early decision was to grass over her mother-in-law's borders by the house in a bid to rid them of ground elder and bindweed (these were the days before Round Up), as well as to make space for the children to ride their ponies. Then, in 1961, David Verey invited Percy Cane to Barnsley to give advice and Rosemary was galvanised into action. She set about creating the kaleidoscopic beds that were to become the hallmark of her planting style. When David Verey died in 1984 Rosemary considered leaving Barnsley but eventually realised she had better make the garden her full-time career. She started designing planting schemes for the rich and famous in both Britain and America. One day at breakfast she answered the telephone to a caller claiming to be the Prince of Wales wanting to visit the garden. Perfectly capable of leg-pulling herself, she responded with a sharp, \"Oh come on, it's too early in the morning for jokes.\" The Prince laughed, came to Barnsley and invited [Rosemary Verey] to advise him on the garden at Highgrove. Other clients included Sir Elton John, Princess Michael of Kent, the Marquess of Bute and the New York Botanic Garden. Rosemary Verey enjoyed writing, loved to feel she was communicating all the joy that gardening brought to her life. \"It's beautiful,\" she told Helen Penn, who interviewed her for a BBC book to accompany the television series An Englishwoman's Garden, \"and I'd like to explain it.\" This she did in a string of books that culminated in what she called \"The Barnsley Book\" (Rosemary Verey's Making of a Garden, 1995). She continued writing until the end of her life. At least two pieces will be published posthumously: a chapter in Gardens of Inspiration (due to be published by BBC Books in September), and the \"Expert Insight\" she gave for the NGS 75th Anniversary book Making Gardens (Cassell, October).

Wish you were here, Dad. There's some news you'd have loved to hear: the High Court has ruled for a payout to the miners. The headline in the Guardian was `Miners died without justice'. Mr Justice Turner didn't mince his words: `This judgment is a damning indictment of British Coal at all levels throughout its entire history, all the way back to nationalisation in 1947.' The unions are up in arms and old Scargill is very bitter about the long struggle and about it being too late for nearly 50 per cent of the miners who died from lung diseases. Prevarication has saved the Government pounds 1 billion - not much really, when work-related illness and injuries already cost the British economy pounds 11- pounds 16 billion a year. Even so, I know you'd want to know that the longest-running industrial disease trial in British legal history has ruled in favour of the workers. And, what's more, that the case has prompted the president of the Law Society to challenge the proposed abolition of legal aid for civil cases and called for the Government to find fairer ways of achieving savings in the legal aid bill - more grist to the underdogs' mill, as you would have put it.

She was born Heather Norman, daughter of a doctor in Broadstone, Dorset; her mother ran the practice dispensary and one of Heather's earliest memories was sitting in the pram with her younger sister as their nursemaid delivered medicines around the village. At Sandecotes school, in Parkstone, she thrived on approval and praise and worked hard to earn it, winning countless prizes for diligence. She was a fine tennis player who took part in Junior Wimbledon. One of Heather's older brothers was at medical school in London with Richard Schilling, who had already met and helped Heather with her Latin on visits to the Norman family in Broadstone. Love blossomed and in 1937, after Richard qualified, he and Heather were married. Their son, Chris, was born early in 1939 and Richard was called up that September to serve in the RAMC. By the end of the war, they also had two daughters.

The black and red outfit she wore for the occasion was far from typical. [Frances Elisabeth Rosemary Lincoln], who has died aged 55, was usually dramatically self- effacing. Her voice was precise, but very soft and low, her clothes inconspicuous, though often expensive. Her skirts were long, and so was the hair, partly concealing her face, which was further hidden by broad-brimmed hats and large round glasses, usually dark. From behind this protective screen emerged her gentle little voice - not all that often, for she was never talkative. Frances was born the eldest of two children of liberal, middle- class Hampstead parents. Her father had been a clever grammar-school boy, her mother's immediate forebears included a Ceylon tea-planter and a Manchester solicitor. The family moved to Hertfordshire, and she went unhappily to school in Bedford. After a year, she moved to St George's, Harpenden, a co-educational boarding school, where she was fulfilled and successful, and ended up as head girl. Erica Hunningher writes: Frances Lincoln became a colleague and friend in 1970, when we were assistant editors at Studio Vista. I joined the company that bore her name in 1987, and worked for her for 11 years. She was a dedicated and inspired publisher, a pioneer with a grasp on life that was reflected in the illustrated books that her independent company produced over 24 years.