What a Palaver

We love the word 'palaver' at 88. It's such a good way of describing life sometimes, particularly if you have two children who go here, there and everywhere. We use the definition of it by way of things being a bit of a fuss or bother but not an unpleasant inconvenience or bustle.

Thursday evenings can be a bit of a palaver - there is swimming, then there is eating, then there is Rainbows and Beavers (I call it Beavow's night) which both start at the same time but not in the same location. Fortunately they finish half an hour apart but then that means walking out twice - not pleasant last night I can tell you in the arctic wind. Then at 7.45pm we can all breathe and say with a grin on our faces what a palaver that all was. There is a certain charm in my 7 year old coming out in a Mancunian kind of accent "Well that was a right palaver."

Apparently 'palaver' also means to talk at length and unnecessarily from the habit in mid 18th century Africa of talks between tribespeople and traders from the Portuguese word for word 'palavra'. And I dare say we do do a lot of palavering over the dinner table too at 88.

Actually I may put a motion forward to rechristen a lot of blogs including mine 'palavers'.....going on and on at length about nothing really.