Southampton & District Masters

The Southampton and District Masters Lodge No.9181 met last night at Kings Court Masonic Centre, Chandlers Ford. The new WM, W. Bro. Dave Bowen was in Charge, and with the assistance of a new hip and the benefit of the crutch, he managed to welcome the APGM W. Bro. Jonathan Bell and an entourage substantial enough to suggest that a small coach may have been involved.

As is customary, the APGM was handed the gavel who then beguiled us with tales of his youthful visits many years ago to the Southampton and District Masters Lodge.

We then had a short talk on ‘The Benefits of A Masters Lodge’ given by W. Bro. Pete Ambrose. To be completely honest, I can't remember a great deal of it, but I am confident it was both fascinating and persuasive. Separately to the talk, the WM was then able to announce that he had been able to convince 11 of the visiting members this evening to join the lodge!

The brethren then retired to the bar for a ‘Welcome Glass of Beer’ - a phrase whose precise constitutional meaning remains unclear - before proceeding to dinner. A full report on the Festive Board catering appears under ‘A Square Meal’, where the food will receive the rigorous scrutiny normally reserved for lodge accounts.

What made the dining experience unusual was that Bro. Aidan Lavin, from the Dancing Man Brewery, gave an expert talk on the various ‘free’ ales served with the meal - an arrangement that ensured his audience listened with exceptional concentration – and albeit slightly bleary eyes by the end of the evening.

As a non-beer drinker, I feel duty-bound to offer my equally expert opinion on the three glasses of water I sampled instead. The first displayed a delicate chalky hue with a hint of pine cone, suggesting an unknown origin somewhere near the northern end of the reservoir, possibly beside a fence. The second was mouth-wateringly tart, with a bold, lingering note of nail polish remover - almost certainly imparted by the waitress’s thumb, which also gave it excellent body. The third produced a pleasingly dry, gripping sensation on the tongue, presumably due to a generous helping of fluoride and perhaps a light dusting of plumbing corrosion. The water may have lacked the complexity of the ales, but it possessed one decisive advantage: it left me entirely capable of finding my own way home.