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.

Tardis Technology

My local council has achieved the impossible. It will defy the laws of physics. Well not quite impossible as Dr Who has been doing it for a long time. It will fit something really quite big and wonderful into something really quite small and not fit for purpose.

My local council intends to close my local library, purpose-built in 1899, and transfer all the books and services down the road to the Town Hall. Strike that...not transfer but squeeze into the Town Hall. Strike that... not squeeze into but lose a few books on the way down there and then breathe in and push. Of course I may be wrong and the Town Hall is a TARDIS, bigger on the inside than the outside and all the books and all the staff and all the services that exist at the moment will be fitted in effortlessly.

My local library down the road from 88

It's the slippery slope. Actually it's gone beyond that now we are at the bottom of the slippery slope in a heap, bruised and can't quite get back up. Four libraries have closed in my local authority in the last year. Opening hours have been reduced. Staff have gone and not been replaced. Library budgets slashed. I'll take a wild guess and suggest staff morale has been buried in a deep deep hole and can't be found. Once libraries are shut or squeezed into a local authority TARDIS, they will not come back.

I happen to think libraries are a good thing. Lending books and being an information repository into which you can tap is a good idea, isn't it? My book at bedtime is a library book and my children's books at bedtime and for homework are library books. Supporting them in their education - surprise surprise - is quite important to me. If I can't find something out, I ring the Reference Library. If I want to find out about my local area or my ancestors I go to the Local Studies Library.  Not to mention the people who go into libraries for company and warmth but I suppose that's a risible reason for keeping libraries and the services they provide open.

I know my argument is an emotional one. Savings we are told have to be made but I fear that the quality of my life and that of my neighbours will be diminished. Let's hope it's not extinguished. Will keep you updated.

Rapunzel Diaries 1 : Lindley Clock Tower

Lindley Clock Tower, Huddersfield

Imagine lying in bed over one hundred years ago. The central heating hasn't come on because it hasn't been invented and anyway you wouldn't be able to afford it. It's dark and cold. And then the bell tolls. For whom does it toll? Well it tolls for you. Lindley Clock Tower tolls for you. Get up and go to work in the local mill, your alarm clock has gone off. It may be a very tall and big but it's your alarm clock nevertheless.

An alarm clock slightly bigger than the one at 88

Well that's what folklore would have us believe at any rate. James Sykes, a local mill owner, had Lindley Clock Tower built in 1902 by Edgar Wood. It's 83 feet high and built in the Art Nouveau style. Wood, originally from Middleton near Manchester, added all sorts of symbolic features to the tower. Above the doorway is Time and to the left Youth sowing the seed and to the right Old Age reaping.

At the top of the tower are gargoyles in the shapes of dogs representing 'The beasts fleeing from the towers of time' : the lazy, vicious, cunning and greedy dogs.....whatever that means?

I think it's the closest I've ever got to a Rapunzel Tower. It's a good climb winding round and round up to a little enclosed room with views 360 degree views. Rapunzel could feasibly let down her hair from up there.

It's not a 10 out of 10 tower as I like to get out into the elements on my towers and have uninterrupted panoramic views but it comes pretty near.

The Tower is only open on certain days of the year. I climbed it on the Heritage Open Weekend last September.