The Secret Squirrel Club

That’s what my wifey has always called it. The Secret Squirrel Club. ‘Secret Squirrel’ was a kids TV show about a squirrel secret agent or something like that. Never watched it myself. My ‘Secret Squirrel Club’ was and, technically, still is the Freemasons. I am a Freemason – which, having so admitted, probably means I’m destined for a very sticky end as you’re not supposed to actually tell anyone that you are a Freemason other than by signs used to recognise each other such as the ‘secret handshake’.

Now I know that many Freemasons take masonry very seriously indeed which, immediately begs the question, how the hell did Norman become a Freemason?

Simples. I asked. Now that is unusual in itself as you are supposed to be ‘invited’. I was out drinking with some pals in Uxbridge and we tottered out of the pub to go for a curry. On the way I spotted a sign saying ‘Uxbridge Masonic Hall’. My dad and grandad were Freemasons and I’d always been curious what it was all about so I said to my mates “You carry on and I’ll catch you up”

I then tottered into the Masonic Hall dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I walked through a door saying ‘Bar’ and was confronted by a number of men all in dark suits with white shirts and black ties – it was like a Blues Brothers convention sans sunglasses.

“Can I join?” I asked. Some chap then took me aside and asked me a few inane questions. Once he had discovered that my dad and grandad were Freemasons it was all ‘arranged’. One of them would go and see my dad on a business trip up north and I would then hear something shortly.

I did.

“Hello, my name is Brian and I’m the Master of the Lodge you will be initiated into. I am proposing you and Tony is seconding you” – Tony was a Provincial Officer and was the one who had gone to see my dad – “As I’m proposing you I’d better come over and meet you”

“Fine” I said, “when do you want to come over?”

“I’m in the area now so lets say in about half an hour?”

Bloody hell!! I charged up to the shop and bought every make of alcohol known to man, hurtled home and sat waiting. Brian arrived. Once I had him sat down in the living room I asked him what he would like to drink – confident in the knowledge that no matter what his ‘poison’ was I could produce it after buying out the entire stock of the local shop.

“Oh, I’m tea total actually. Perhaps a cup of tea?”

WHAT???? I’ve just spent the bloody mortgage money on booze and you only drink tea???

Anyway, I was duly initiated into the Lodge – there are three degrees you know, NO! Not that Three Degrees, the girl trio from the 70’s – good grief! Pay attention will you?

I went through all that blindfolded naked left breast thing – incidentally, as there are ladies Lodges I wonder if they have that ‘naked left breast’ thing – I must find out whether I can attend a ladies Lodge. Oh, I know, behave Norman!

And, without giving so much away I will be found hanging under Blackfriars Bridge, I was ‘in’ as they say. I moved through the offices of the Lodge with startling speed – in the south there are lots of little Lodges whereas in the north fewer but very large Lodges – and, almost before I knew it I was ‘in the chair’. I was Master of the Lodge – and, as far as I know still to this day, the youngest ever Master of a Lodge in the province of Middlesex.

My dad, in a large northern Lodge, spent about 20 years making his way to ‘the Chair’. I got there in about 5 and, frankly, I still didn’t have a clue what was going on.

The ‘amateur dramatics’ side was quite good fun – that’s what’s called ‘the ritual’. I enjoyed that apart from having to learn the words to ‘the ritual’. I struggled with that. I’m great at remembering rock lyrics or rude football songs but Masonic ritual? Oh dear.

The Pro-Provincial Grand Master attended one meeting when I was Master and later at the festive board – which is basically the eating bit – he made a speech that, apparently, is legendary in Middlesex masonic circles.

He looked at me and said “Worshipful Master, it is extremely important that the ritual flows and your ritual flowed superbly. Quite where it was flowing mind you is more of a mystery than masonic secrets but, at least, it flowed”

I had the habit of ‘making it up’ as I went along when my memory of what was meant to be said failed me. It was quite hysterical to watch the ‘old boys’ following along with their ritual books start to turn pages in bewilderment trying to find the bit that said anything remotely like I was saying.

My habit of descending into broad Lancastrian when I had got completely lost also caused the poor ‘old boys’ many a problem in following me.

So, for those of you unfamiliar with Freemasonry. What’s it really all about then? Could this be a great expose on Mad Mikes America? Well, yes, it could but it isn’t.

They’re not doing those horrible things to me and then hanging me from a bloody bridge thank you very much.

Freemasons? Running things through their secret society? Don’t be silly. As if?

If you want to know then get invited and have a sword pointed at your own naked left breast. Don’t move a muscle mind you. They won’t move backwards if you do and it’d be a shame to stab yourself to death before you find out the secrets eh? 😉

Yours sincerely and fraternally, W. Bro Norman Rampart PPrAGStB

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