The Best School

And so to what did I do last night. I went down to London. And visited the Grand Lodge (just off Drury Lane, Great Queen Street, fantastic building that you may have seen in Spooks or some other programmes). My old school lodge was meeting, the Old Cliftonian Lodge (original name I know). I hadn't managed to get to one of their meetings before but I thought it might be fun. I have to admit to some trepidation beforehand. Would I recognise anyone, would they be people I wanted to meet?

Well, the first thing I realised was that I should have spent the previous 24 hours revising. No-one attempted to check my masonic credentials, but my old school credentials were checked to the full and I think I failed. Who was in your year? Er. Which prep school house were you in? Er. Who was headmaster when you were there? Er. Which house were you in? Oooo, oooo, I know this one, Oakeley's. Who was your housemaster? Er. Was Buffy Smithson there at the time you were? Er. Was Flapper Flint teaching? Er. And so on, ad infinitum. look, it was a long time ago, OK. I swear I was almost thrown out, not because I didn't know the secret handshake but because I couldn't remember Buffy Jones.

It was a good night though. The meeting was an installation which, having been installed two weeks ago myself, was excellent to see. A moment to watch rather than be taking part can be useful in understanding the enormity of what happened. And I was able to tell the new Master that I knew exactly how he felt. And the Festive Board afterwards (basically the meal) was enjoyable, meeting new people and, yes, singing the school song. I possibly didn't treat it with as much reverence as some would have liked, but I enjoyed it which, to my mind, is the important thing (I simply believe that there are times when it is important to smile at yourself). I made some new friends. I improved my Masonic knowledge. And I had a good meal with reasonable wine. Definitely worse ways to spend a night.