When students and the more irresponsible element of adult
humanity want to fill a long Saturday night they embark upon a Pub-Crawl. This means they go to a pub, have a drink,
and then go to another pub and do the same thing, until they get bored or the
pubs close or they can’t drink anymore.
Then they lie down on a bench in the park and sleep it off. I have never done this, because I am
physically weak and don’t stand up to that sort of rigor. However –
Yesterday I felt like getting out of the house, I spent the
last three weekends working and needed a bit of a break. The weather was
predicted to be rainy, so going for a long walk in the countryside was
definitely out. So I decided to go for a
Club-Crawl.
My Club alas closes during certain times of the year, like
August, Christmas, and Easter. During
such times club members are allowed to visit other clubs who offer
‘hospitality’. Most of those clubs are
closed on the weekend, but a handful do remain open, and I resolved to visit
them and see how they compare to my own.
The rain was not just predicted but really kept on
happening. No sooner had my umbrella
dried a little that the deluge started all over again. Since I am loathe to ruin good shoes in the rain,
I wore my bad weather shoes. They are made
of brown leather, and perfectly serviceable unless they get wet. Then they immediately soak up as much water
as is available, and remain so for the rest of the day. I figure, they are ruined already so I might
as well use them whenever it rains.
There are only two drawbacks; firstly, I run around in wet shoes all
day, and secondly the brown die from the shoes is unstable and stains my feet a
rich rusty colour. Luckily no one can
see this, so I managed to gain admission to the four clubs I had set my eyes
on. Outwardly I looked perfectly
respectable, but if they had inspected my shoes/feet I would have probably been
dismissed as a tramp.
The first club was just off Bond
Street
Then I slushed through the rain to the East India Club, much
closer to Pall Mall where my own Club is located. It is a very grand affair, mahogany all over
the place, and I would need a map to find anything in there. It had the usual library and lots of meeting
rooms and a huge Drawing Room, where I sat in splendid isolation and read
another newspaper. In the lobby there
were several travellers who had just arrived with suitcases, but there wasn’t
anyone like me who was just whiling away an idle hour reading the papers and
musing about the meaning of life.
Indeed, most clubs seem to be utilised mainly during the
week for business meetings and in the evenings for social occasions. Solitary visitors like me, who just want to
read the papers and have a drink and get away from the milling crowds that
throng the streets of London
The Royal Automobile Club was next on my list and just
around the corner. This was just as
well, since the rain had intensified its efforts to soak my shoes and I wanted
to stay indoors. There was a car in the
middle of the huge lobby! I was given a
temporary membership card – in the other clubs I had just signed the Visitors’ Book
– and looked around. The place was
heaving with people! The drawing room
was crowded with little groups of people taking tea or playing games or reading
papers, so I got claustrophobic and escaped to explore the upper stories. Loads of conference rooms, a huge staircase,
and many rooms for overnight stays.
Every room has a little slate with a pen, so you could leave a message
for the inhabitant! I was dead
impressed.
I stayed in this club for two hours because the rain just
wouldn’t stop (I had found a little out of the way sitting room where I hid in
a corner and remained unnoticed). By now
I had read all the daily newspapers, and started on The Lady magazine, which
featured an article of how to deal with friends who never leave tips when they
go to restaurants. I perused this publication while watching the rain pelt a group of oriental
tourists who were huddling on the other side of the street, and felt dry,
protected, and outrageously privileged.
Of course I pay for the privilege with my annual membership fee, but
still!
Finally the rain let up a little and I went to the last club
on my list, the Royal Overseas League. I
expected something quite spectacular, given the name, but having just visited
three rather large and splendid premises felt a bit let down by this last
club. The man at the entrance didn’t
even want me to sign a Visitors’ Book, he just waved me through in a slightly
bored disgusted sort of way – perhaps he had noticed my shoes? The drawing room was quite small, and
reasonably well attended. I rang for tea
three times but no one paid any attention, so I read yet another newspaper and
after that snooped around a little. I
was impressed with the flower boxes and the stair-lifts – never seen one in a
club ever before!, but otherwise was under whelmed and fled after an hour.
The whole experience was most entertaining and instructive,
I shall have to do this on a weekday sometimes when all the other clubs are
open. I still prefer my own club though,
since it has the best libraries and most opulent toilets, and, being frank, is
probably the only one that wouldn’t blackball me!
Next Tuesday I shall continue my adventures in clubland when
I meet up with my Ladies Who Lunch friends.
We are meeting up in the Institute
of Directors Club
