One of the few non-religious holidays we share with the United States is the Late May Bank Holiday, which coincides with Memorial Day. There is no particular celebration attached to it, of course, as with most Bank Holidays, so it’s just for us to enjoy.
This weekend, except for Saturday, it pissed down rain every single day through today and probably tomorrow as well.
So we start with Friday, where I went to the gym and then just crashed. Saturday HWMBO and I helped out at the parish table sale, at which we made a very little money but had lots of fun. I bought HWMBO a little toy stuffed walrus (Beanie Baby, I think). We’ll soon be overrun by stuffed toys. That evening we went to dinner at Ethel King’s flat; Ethel is our fellow parishioner at St. Matthew’s and a real gem.
Sunday I preached, then we went to lunch at the Well with , , , , , Mark, and Clive. A great time was had by all; afterward we returned home and fed single malt Scotch to most all of them.
Monday it pissed and pissed and pissed down rain. We were quite annoyed that the weather wasn’t cooperating with us. I don’t believe we did much of anything until the evening, when , , , and joined us at home for Manhattans and then travelled with us to Belgo on Kingsway (watch out for the website, lots of cutsie twee animations…) for mussels, burgers, and sausages and chicken. Oh, and beer. Unfortunately I am now learning that going to a restaurant on a Bank Holiday Monday is often a recipe for ingredients that are unavailable and chefs that are last-minute substitutes. My burger, rather than being cooked medium, pink, and juicy (as I asked) was cooked well, grey, and DRY. There was no pickle, and the salad was put into the burger rather than left on the side. When I asked for mayonnaise for my frites, the waitress (with whom was shamelessly flirting) said that they had run out. I recoiled in mock horror and said, “What, a Belgian restaurant with no mayonnaise???” in the same tone taken in The Importance of Being Earnest over a handbag. She then scraped some up for me, which was very nice indeed.
Tuesday I worked at home, then set off for a Lodge meeting. One of our daughter lodges is the Lodge of Eternal Light, which meets in the Southgate Masonic Center. It’s two stops before the northern end of the Piccadilly Line, so it is quite a lengthy trip. Many of our Lodge’s members are also members of Eternal Light, and many of Eternal Light’s members are also members of Goliath Chapter of the Royal Arch. So, I knew most of the brethren.
The ceremony was OK, with some exceptions. The Tyler held us up for about 10 minutes by not preparing the Initiation Candidate correctly. There was a Metropolitan Grand Inspector present, and the ceremony of getting him in and sitting next to the Worshipful Master was quite a production. He has his own Master of Ceremonies, who basically takes over the Lodge while the MGI walks in a second procession. The Worshipful Master handed him the gavel, as the MGI is entitled to take over the Lodge from the WM when he arrives, but the MGI handed it back.l
The Tyler also forgot to get the candidate’s rings from him (an initiation candidate enters the ceremony divested of all money and metallic substances). I was told he is a substitute Tyler, so perhaps he’s not seasoned yet.
In the middle of the ceremony they call off the Lodge and everyone goes downstairs and has a cup of tea. This further delayed the ceremony. It was 7:45 pm before we started dinner.
A quaint ceremony during the toast to the initiate was, well, quaint. We made a circle in a particular way with hands interlaced. A speech was delivered pointing out how the chain of the circle could not be broken. Then, we welcomed the candidate.
All in all, this took until well past 10 pm. I didn’t get home until 11:30. I’m bushed. and are on their way to Tanzania for their safari trip. I hope they bag lots of pictures.