Secret Society

A charming weekend at my parents, spoiled only by their attempt to induct me into a secret society.

They tried to make me go to a carol concert. Not just any carol concert, mind. Only after I'd put up a fuss and politely explained that I'd be spending the evening in with a bottle of scotch and Rosemary & Thyme did I realise that it was yet another ploy by my parents to get me along to the local Masonic Lodge.

My dad is a mason, you see, and is terribly keen that I join in. I'd rather not. I'm fine with shirt-lifting, but trouser-lifting really isn't my thing. Plus you need a good head for both God and Algebra.

Getting me "in" has been a long-term ambition of my dad's. In the town where we used to live, the Grand Master ran the local fruit and veg shop. I popped in during a visit to buy cauliflowers, and by the time I got home, "a call" had already been placed to my dad, and he explained to me that I was summoned to the lodge.

Ever since, it's been a combination of polite refusals, and bizarre subterfuge. This time it was a carol concert. Last time I went home, they tried to tempt me along to a concert by The Wurzels.