ALL of us here are interested in work. Many of us are fascinated by it and have been looking at it, or listening to people talk about it, reading, thinking and writing about it not just for hours but for years. To those involved with the more esoteric areas of sociology this preoccupation with working on work must often seem dull and mundane, concerned with matters which are common-place, directly familiar to the person in the street, frequently the subject of journalistic comment. Yet without going to the other extreme and claiming unjustifiably that work is highly mysterious, I believe that such a view is mistaken. In many important respects the work that people do is unknown territory for almost everyone except those with direct experience of doing it, or supervising or managing it. Most people's work is hidden from observation behind the walls of factory or office (or of house or flat) and often behind even more impenetrable barriers. Even in those areas where work demands contact with, and therefore the opportunity for observation by, the public, in shops, hotels, restaurants and some offices, for example, there are, as we all know, backstage activities which remain hidden from view. Huw Beynon has put this very well in his introduction to Born to Work, a book in which he and Nick Hedges, a photographer, make a notable contribution towards conveying what work is–or was–like in some West