For the first time, as far as I can recall, I am now a member of a club - not a stamp club, or a chess club, but a club of the sort that has premises of its own. The Mildmay Club. A wonderful old pile on Newington Green which I've blogged about before - established towards the close of the nineteenth century as the Mildmay Radical Club (that middle word was dropped, sadly, in the 1930s).
I popped in last night to collect my membership card - and a rule book - and a rather curious Club and Institute Union Card (see above) - a smaller version which seems to fulfil the same purpose - a key card so I can actually get into the club - and a receipt. Phew! And that membership card is 'No. 8'. Quite a kerfuffle getting this far - having to be nominated by two current members during a fairly short window for new applications, and then being interviewed (OK, so there were no awkward moments - apart from a rather poor reception to my suggestion that jazz nights might usefully supplement the Saturday evening line dancing sessions). Anyway, as you see, I seem to have passed.
Though Sunday evening is clearly not the highlight of the week at the Mildmay. At 9 in the evening, I was the only soul there - apart from the barmaid, and a cat asleep on the comfiest chair in the bar. And I could have any draught beer I wanted - as long as it was John Smith's.
And to think, I joined to give a new edge to my social life!
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