Product Packaging Problems (& Solutions?)

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You may be thinking that the photograph above is of a set of torture equipment. It is not (although it very often feels like mental torture!). Nor is it for committing burglary. The selection represents some of the items I use to break into products via packaging that oftentimes feels like it was sent by the lord above as a trial of strength of character.

There is:

A grippy silicon pad to help my arthritic fingers hold on to a product whilst attempting to disrobe it.

A silicon mat upon which to stand jars and cans to prevent them sliding all over the counter whilst struggling with their lids.

Two different tin-openers (can-openers) depending whether one or the other fails to do the job in the first instance on tins (cans) without ring-pulls.

A bottle- & jar-opener.

A pair of scissors for cutting through crisp packets, cereal packaging or - G_d forbid - products completely entombed in solid plastic.

A knife for sliding under folded-down packaging that will not peel back - it has to be that big and chunky for my arthritic hands to try to grip.

A ring-pull opener for cans of pop (soda), and some tinned (canned) goods, as there is no way my swollen fingers can get at the ring-pulls.

A sparkling-wine opener - this is one of my favourites as I can now extract bubbles under my own steam whenever I want champers.

A wine-bottle cutter: it cuts off the metal/plastic surround at the top of bottles making access for a corkscrew a heck of a lot easier.

A bottle-cap opener - in desperation for a beer I tried teeth once and just cut my gums and gave myself toothache!

Not photographed, I have an Alessi wine-bottle opener which, whilst still requiring the twisting action with hand & wrist, is a damn sight simpler and less effort to use than conventional corkscrews.

Talking of wine, I applaud the use of screw-caps as on the whole these make extracting wine from the bottle a much easier task, although not without difficulty as one still requires two hands - one to hold the bottle, the other to utilise the bottle-opener.

Whilst in Spain, I observed a distinct move away from conventional bottle-caps to pull-off caps on bottled beers and ciders. Even I could open these with relative ease. I am not aware of this occurring in Britain; but then I tend to drink wine or spirits at home.

Actually, thus far I seem to have obsessed rather on alcohol! This next item also contains the blessèd substance. After-shaves and eau de colognes can often prove nightmarish to access. The photograph below is of one of the fragrances I use, Gucci by Gucci. The plastic, wrapping the box, is easily peeled away, and the box opens without difficulty. And I can pull the stopper off without much effort due to the large ring-pull. Also the bottle itself feels weighty in my hands. For me this is a good as I have diminished touch sensation through my fingers, so my body is aware I am holding it and have not lost or am not losing my grip upon it.

[Image description: a plastic wrapped box of & bottle of Gucci]

Yikes, the next product also contains alcohol; oh, no it doesn't any longer, I forgot they reformulated it without. Shucks! Mouth-wash. Can able-bodied folk actually access these? I usually have to resort to using a knife and scissors to remove the plastic holding the lid on and ensuring water-tightness. I have no choice over using these rinses as much of the time I am physically incapable of cleaning my own teeth, so at least mouth-washing keeps them fresher than they would be otherwise. Which neatly segues into tooth-paste. I am a convert to flip-lid tubes as I found the tiny little screw-lids nigh impossible to unscrew, re-screw or kept on dropping them.

[Image description: a bottle of mouthwash, unopened]

I wonder too what percentage of shoppers struggle to read labelling due to font-type, size of font, colour of font, etc. It must be really difficult for blind folk to know what product is what in their cupboards or on their shelves. Whilst some products have taken the enlightened step of using Braille to identify the contents, the vast majority have not. Perhaps it is time manufacturers were obliged to do so, as it will take until the twelfth of never for all products to be helpfully marked.

Turning now to a product that most of use daily: milk. It does not matter how you buy your milk whether in a Tetrapak-style carton or a plastic bottle, who does not on a regular basis struggle getting at the cow-juice? I think Sainsbury's or Booth's uses a plastic seal with a sort of large wing which is large enough to grip. My milk is delivered as I find it difficult to shop at specific times due to my fluctuating conditions. The packaging is easier than most, but with a slightly larger flap would probably mean I would not have to frequently resort to a knife to get me started.

[Image description: a plastic bottle of milk, unopened]

Cleaning products are another bane. Well some of them are. One that is not is my anti-bacterial spray. The nozzle is turned from off to on without effort and the whole design appears to have been ergonomically well thought-out. On the other hand, Waitrose replaced the caps on their bleach a few years back, so now one is required to squeeze and turn at the same time. Just about impossible for folk with poor grip and/or struggling with arthritic pain in their hands. Now once I have the lid off, it stays off; which of course risks accidents.

[Image description: a bottle of bleach & an anti-bacterial spray]

Bleach lids are not unlike the lids on some of my medications, although this time one is required to push down and unscrew. These supposedly child-safe lids, that seem to hold no difficulties for youngsters, are just downright beyond the capability of many disablies or even just agèd folk. Packaging of medications is my true bête noir. Apart from inaccessible pill-bottles, there are the designed-to-infuriate blister-packs. To be fair some are easier than others. In the photograph, the pack with the largest pills is made of a very pliant, foil-like material. I have no problems in pushing these large pills out and it causes negligible pain. However the smaller tablets are in packaging that probably would not be destroyed by a nuclear explosion. I end up with pills here, there and everywhere, increased pain and pressure marks where I have attempted to squeeze out the little blighters!

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There are lots of companies out there with lots of products. Some really try to do their best; others do not seem to care a hoot. Perhaps what we need is an annual set of prizes for both good & bad packaging. But really, companies should not need incentives or to be named and shamed, it ought to be good business sense to get the packaging right in the first instance. I should love to know how many design companies actually ask or test their ideas on disabled folk. Maybe such should be made mandatory.



If you have an example of good or bad packaging, please feel free to post about it below (but be aware of libel) with, if possible, photographic evidence.

Likewise, if you know any good products to deal with poor packaging design, post away.

Furthermore, if you have any ideas on how to improve packaging, communication with manufacturers, whatever, please feel at liberty to comment.

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This article is written for Blogging Against Disablism Day 2014

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#badd2014

In/accessible Europe (7): Bristol Dinner Eateries

[Image description: map of Old City area of Bristol; © bristololdvic.org.uk]

Hobbling in twenty-eight degrees of heat at eight-fifteen from the Pride concert we again passed a floating restaurant moored next to Welsh Back near to Bristol Bridge. On my very first visit to Bristol, around a decade ago, I had attempted to dine there one evening but all covers were taken. In brilliant daylight, the barge did not look so clean. As the day had progressed and we had passed the self-same restaurant on several occasions, I noticed that their advertising hoarding looked more and more dishevelled. My assistant and I agreed that if the restaurateur could not be bothered to fix what first caught one’s eye, we probably could not expect decent presentation of food-stuffs. I hobbled on.

We passed Aqua restaurant with a large outdoor terrace. My helper glanced at the plates on the tables and pointed out how the food appeared to have been thrown at them. For a foodie that is a no-no - and I was not yet starving. I hobbled on.

We reached Loch Fyne which had one very high entry-step, probably do-able in my manual wheelchair and definitely accessible to me with my assistant’s assistance; but I was not making the ascent to determine that there were no places available. My assistant strolled in to make enquiries. A couple of minutes later he was back to apprise me that the maître d’ was checking. A few moments later, the lovely lass appeared to offer us a basement table - alas out of the question for me as there was no lift (elevator). The manageress was really apologetic and hoped we would visit again upon next visiting. She did however recommend a Spanish tapas eatery on The Grove. I hobbled on.

Tiring now, in pain and becoming petulant in the humid atmosphere, we detoured into Queen Square for a wee rest. The air was cooler and fresher under the mature trees lining the plaza. I recuperated. I hobbled on.

We passed several more restaurants: some of which were accessible from an entry perspective, but no accessible WC facilities (which is fine if one does not need them!); others were up several flights of stairs. Even a newer restaurant had no lift. Mud Dock had four flights of stairs and no lift!

The tapas restaurant had caught our eye earlier in the day when zooming past in one of the taxis we had taken. It appeared quite expansive with several patio windows opening inwards as well as two or three open entrances. As we neared one could smell the garlic. Upon reaching the building all one could feel was the intense heat streaming out of the edifice’s orifices. The place was packed. But there was no laughter and little chatter. Folk sitting at the French windows were distinctly leaning out, all lobster-red, sweating and looking thoroughly uncomfortable if not downright miserable. As I limped past each opening a repeat of the initial furnace blast. There was absolutely no way I was even entering the establishment.

We agreed to go back to the hotel. However bland the menu appeared, on this occasion - what was later confirmed by meteorologists as the hottest day of the year thus far - air-conditioning was the priority. En route we decided to take a very slight detour along Narrow Quay to check out the water-front dining spots, just in case. On the far side of Pero’s Bridge were several businesses serving food, some accessible per my guide. However, they all were heaving and the raucous cacophony was even deafening on our side of the quay... We turned to head reluctantly to the hotel. As we did so, we were faced with one final restaurant (photo below © The River Grille)

The River Grille was neither empty (surely a bad sign when everywhere else was so busy) nor fully packed out. There were no open windows, so we made the assumption that it probably was fully air-conned. Then we noticed diners were chatting calmly, smiling, some even laughing. That did it: we entered.

Penny, the lovely maître d’ immediately smiled and gently welcomed us. A table for two was no problem. Gin & tonics straight away - again no problem - and we had a choice of gins. They even had my fave of the mo, Tanqueray. Diet tonic was also available. I was liking the joint already! Penny enquired after any other beverages we might like. I requested a bottle of Prosecco be placed on ice. Unfortunately, not a line that was on the menu. However Penny recommended a Cordoníu Cava that was surprisingly light and fruity despite the brut epithet. We left the Cava unopened and chilling in its bucket. Sipping our G&Ts we perused the menus (table d’hôte and à la carte) whilst listening to the tinkling keys of the mezzanine-bar piano. The pianist (photo below) charmed us with light classics and film scores. Unobtrusive and a quite delightful surprise!

A waitress brought over a small plate of tomato bread with dipping oil & balsamic vinegar (photo below) upon which we happily nibbled. My assistant would later have a second serving, at which point the waitress herself admitted it was delectable and that she too had a fondness for it.

As a starter, I selected Loch Duart smoked salmon, fennel shavings, local crab-meat & watercress (photo below). The colours captivated the eye and the flavours tantalised the palate. My assistant plummed for the hake & salmon fish-cake, mousse & watercress. The plates were cleaned. For a first course it was just the right quantity to stimulate the taste-buds and get the saliva flowing.

For my main course, having first checked that they were home-made, I ordered the gnocchi as a starter but with an additional side-salad. Again this was not an issue and I was advised that many diners choose similarly. I use gnocchi as my barometer against which to judge a restaurant: if they do not live up to the standard of my Grandmother, I do not return. In this instance, it is true that my Grandma makes better gnocchi. Chef’s version had a very heavy-handed, doughy texture. However, the flavour was great and so my plate was emptied (photo below). My side-salad of rocket, Parmesan and balsamic vinegar was a veritable symphony of flavour: pepperiness; sweet- and sourness; sweetness. Minor criticisms here were that the salad was somewhat drowned in liquid and there was just too much cheese - not a criticism one could normally make anywhere else!

My assistant had the pork saltimbocca, pea mash & capers (photo below). Once again the platter was licked clean.

Desserts were fantastic (photo below)! I went for the Earl Grey Tea ice-cream with pear tarte Tatin & caramel drizzle. If I had not been so full, I could have eaten it a second time even though it takes fifteen to twenty minutes to prepare, as I was so expeditiously warned before placing my order. Assistant chose the lemon meringue (the straws are the meringue), lemon jelly & lemon sorbet. OMG: puddings to die for!

Throughout the repast, the service was unobtrusive and kept to the minimum without us feeling ignored. Each course averaged at about half-an-hour, which is my preferred time giving one plenty of time to digest and, naturally, to converse.

According to Bristol’s disability access guide (available from their tourist information office), the restaurant does have a disabled WC; but one has to enter the hotel attached as the restaurant’s rest-rooms are upstairs. However, on this occasion they were not needed.

Ambience, service, temperature (on this occasion), price and of course the cuisine were just spot-on. Fully sated. Quite content. Totally recommend The River Grille at the Bristol Hotel. I for one shall become a loyal habitué.

In/accessible Europe (6): Birmingham Southside

On the 23rd January this year England & Wales' very first specialist LGBT health & well-being centre was launched, officially opening its doors to the public on 29th inst. to "serve the needs of the city's local lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community." One might expect it to be located in London, the capital city; but you would be wrong. It is not in Manchester either. It is actually situated in the Southside district of Birmingham, right next-door to Brum's gay 'village' and animated Chinatown.

[Image description: the frontage of the centre with the name and seven rainbow-coloured spots]

The centre's opening statement reads:

"Welcome to the homepage of the new Birmingham LGBT Centre. The centre will have a focus on Health & Wellbeing and will host and develop services to address health inequalities and meet the needs of Birmingham’s diverse Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Trans communities. Located in Birmingham city centre on Holloway Circus at the edge of Birmingham’s vibrant gay village, the fully accessible centre covers three floors and includes a range of versatile spaces including  meeting and training rooms.

As well as services for individuals the centre will be home to meetings of independent  LGBT Community Groups, events and other activities…"

According to its website there are at least eight groups regularly meeting at the centre including for bisexuals, transvestites and alcohol dependents. Personally, I am excited by an additional support group for LGBT folk over the age of fifty-five, TOPAZ or The Older People's A to Z. I have not heard of any other such grouping so this appears both innovative as well as being desperately needed.

[Image description: the logo for TOPAZ; © blgbt.org]

Additionally, the site is home to several health clinics and a source of health information and advice.

[Image description: various health education posters, designed for NHS

in conjunction with BLGBT; © blgbt.org]

Their website very handily has an interactive map which enables one to zoom in and study the buildings. Added to the photos of the outside we were able to immediately spot the nondescript 1960's style edifice from the A38 as we were driving in a southerly direction.

We managed to find a parking space on Thorp Street (as recommended by Birmingham LGBT Centre) in a pay-and-display zone. However, thankfully, blue-badge holders were exempt from the charges. The pavements were even and well kept, so no trip hazards as this time I was on foot rather than in my wheelchair (my stubbornness was responsible for my later suffering acute pain and exhaustion for several days afterwards!). The centre was easily reached and the doors opened onto a gentle ramp that rose to the café level; so, had I been a wheelie, there would have been no access problems. We had arrived a full twenty minutes early for the Matt Alber benefit concert!

The centre "aims to be accessible to all sections of the LGBT community, facilities include; Baby Change, Trans Changing Space and Gender Neutral Toilets. The centre is accessible for people with mobility impairments and other disabilities and includes a lift, ramps, hearing loops and braille panels. The centre also has a disabled care suite with shower and hoist and a fully accessible disabled toilet". In fact, it transpires that WC is the only one in central Birmingham and so is accessed by disabled folk from the wider community. So the centre is providing a public service too!

[Image description: the centre's accessible WC; © blgbt.org]

The affable staff and volunteers at the centre, including David, Rose & Chris, instantly put me at ease and made me, my assistant and other attendees most welcome. I have no doubt that all visitors feel similarly comfortable at the centre.

After the concert, my assistant strolled and I hobbled into Chinatown. We could not find a single flat-entry restaurant, although a couple had just one step. We eventually elected to enter Chung Ying on Worttesley Street. There were three steps which I was able to mount with assistance. Electric wheelchairs definitely could not manage them. My assistant insisted however that he would have had enough strength and the turning-space to help me up them had I been in my wheelchair. The waiters did open the doors and I suspect would have offered extra assistance if needs be. The establishment has a disabled WC, but I would not have succeeded in navigating through the tightly packed furniture to reach it had I been in my wheelchair, which has a full leg extension. Despite these minor misgivings, the food was excellent and very good value in respect to price, quality and quantity. We departed fully sated.

On a previous visit, I dined at Malmaison in the Mailbox. The restaurant was accessed via lift (elevator) with no difficulties. I did not check out the toileting facilities as I did not need to.

Whilst on this occasion I did not go on a shopping spree, I can advise that the Bullring precinct is accessible. Certainly the iconic Selfridges' building is fully so. Those with poor mobility might find some of the inclines in the shopping area tough-going, however, or you may need to take a few extra breathers!

All in all I should say, "Visit Brum!" %)

In/accessible Europe (3): Manchester's Gay Village

For Blogging Against Disablism Day, BADD 2012, I wrote an article entitled “Sexual Eunuchs?” (q.v.) looking at what it can be like being both disabled and queer. In said article I referred to Manchester’s Gay Village quarter and stated that I never saw disabled folk out and about there, save for the deaf. I thought it time to gird my loins and check out some accessibility issues when I went to commemorate “Alan Turing - A Gay Hero” (q.v.). After doing so, I was in need of a drink and the toilet, in that order.

All the venues opposite the entrances to Sackville Park on Sackville Street had short flights of steps in order to enter (either outside or inside), so thus rendering them all inaccessible.

As it was almost empty on the lower side of Canal Street, I allowed myself to be pushed in my wheelchair along the road.

Bar Below was in a basement down a flight of stairs - inaccessible.

Villaggio was up a short flight of steps - inaccessible.

Eden was across a bridge and down a flight of stairs - inaccessible.

New Union Hotel has a step up - inaccessible without assistance.

Manto had flat access - accessible.

[Image description: the writer in his wheelchair outside the flat entrance to Manto.]

It had been more than a decade since I had last been to Manto. At that point I was still ambulant. Whilst sitting in my chair at the bar, I held a note of the realm in my hand, the bar-lass enquired of my companion as to our order. I promptly chirped up. And the lass apologised unsolicited, thus negating any ill-feeling.

[Inage description: the author enjoying a chat & a drink inside the bar.]

We took our drinks and settled down for a natter, but before leaving I wished to use the WC. I wheeled myself to the bar and enquired whether there was a disabled toilet. A gentleman disappeared behind a door and eventually re-appeared with a key. Unfortunately a fruit-machine and a cash-machine were located opposite a pillar, so it took me a multi-point manœuvre to navigate the obstacles. The chap opened the door and immediately vanished. Another twenty-odd-point turn was required. There was no handle on the inside of the door, so I had to twist (painfully) behind me and exert pressure near the hinge to get the door to gradually pull towards me. I managed to effect my ablutions, but was unable to wash my hands as there was no soap and nothing with or upon which to dry one’s hands. Then I had the difficult task of reversing out and turning in a very narrow gap. Thankfully a young lady came to my rescue otherwise I may have been there for some time.

Whilst I am thankful that Manto’s was accessible and had a disabled WC, as my account elucidates, the toilet was not really accessible without assistance.

This experience prompted me to see whether an internet search might suggest any useful information. I inputted “disabled Manchester” which gave me accessible hotels, but not bars and restaurants. Then I tried “wheelchair accessible Manchester”. This returned no useful data.

Next I thought an enquiry or two on the official tourist information site for Manchester would surely throw up some positive results. Unfortunately www.visitmanchester.com has no specific disabled or accessible section. The exact same seven results were returned in a search using “disabled” and “disability”. The term “accessible” was so broad that it resulted in a large number of useless links.

Well, I thought, surely the Lesbian & Gay Foundation’s site, www.lgf.org.uk, would lead me to what I was after. Similar to Visit Manchester, there was no specific section and search results returned no useful data on accessible venues in the gay village. I have read through LGF’s “Promoting Equality” document (q.v.) and find no direct mention of sub groups of LGBT folk, such as the disabled, race, gender. However, I note that they intend to “Conduct an innovative programme of research to identify the needs of LGB(sic) people.” I do hope that includes finding ways to communicate with queer folk who cannot access the village.

All in all, I am quite saddened, frustrated and, to be honest, ashamed that Manchester does not have readily available and up-to-date information on disabled-accessible venues and preferably broken down into types, such as wheelchair-users, mobility-impaired, etc. If the information is there - somewhere - it needs to be more overt. Such information would be a boon to Mancunians as well as visitors and tourists.