An evening out

Yesterday evening I got in a time machine and went back about 150 years, to somewhere around 1838. I’d been invited to spend an evening at The Australian Club, the most exclusive private club and the oldest gentleman’s club in the country. (I have a friend who is a member, who invites guests along on occasion.)

The Club has various groups within it – the literary group, library group, history group and others and this evening was part of the current affairs group. So, to start the evening we heard a lecture from Malcolm Turnbull on the National Broadband Network. (I won’t write about that, but to say it does appear to be an unnecessary over-investment of tax payer’s money - the biggest determiner of good access to the internet at present is household income, and the NBN isn’t actually going to make it any cheaper, for anybody, and there are more cost-effective means of achieving the same result, not to mention the fact that the way of the future is mobile internet. But Malcolm Turnbull wasn’t expected to say it was a good thing.) Then we went to “supper”, which consisted of veal cutlet about two inches thick, with thyme gnocci, mushroom ragout and steamed vegetables. Very nice.

I’d been prepared to be one of the youngest people in the room, and indeed I was. We shared a table over supper with three elderly gents, who mentioned that they did something until ‘well into their 70s’ leading me to believe they were now in their 80s. In which case I was highly impressed with how lucid and sociable they were. One in particular was very amusing, self-deprecating and friendly and had us laughing the evening away. And I don’t even know what it was any of them used to do for a living, because we didn’t bother discussing that. I had a very pleasant time talking to them.

I’m not at all a fan of upper-class exclusivism, and have no aspirations in that direction, but by the end of the evening I could see that there were some very good things arising from belonging to this club. These came in the form of community and relationship. (You’re not supposed to talk “business” in there, because it’s a social club, and you’re not allowed to use, or even look at, your mobile phone - I like this!) These three chaps went back about 40 years, and appeared to be the best of friends and have a jolly old time together. Amongst their regular activities together were sailing, tennis and playing bridge (which they play amongst themselves and refuse to go and join the bridge clubs with their wives, because they take it all too seriously!). And what I did like about this club was the way it provides this space (amazing space that it is) that people can come to to meet and interact with others, get involved in various activities, eat lunch, or just sit and read a book. And the Club also appears to encourage a long-term investment (fees get substantially cheaper the longer you stay in) and an inter-generational connectedness passing on of the tradition (there were a lot of fathers and sons in the room), which is not, in itself, a bad thing.

I was thinking later at home that if you could create the same scenario, without the elitism, it would be grand. I know a lot of churches aim for just these things, in perhaps a different form, and do create community, but few have a central space that is open all day, every day, providing a space for people to use in quite the same way. And maybe neighbourhood and community centres aim in this direction too, but they don’t seem to achieve the same result. (The reality is that elements of it simply couldn’t be replicated without the money involved to maintain it.) Maybe RSL clubs are the nearest thing - I don’t know much about those either.

It also made me realise that “community” needs to have limits to work, in reality. Many of these fellows are well acquainted with each other. But if the building was open to everyone and anyone who lived in Sydney, that would soon cease to be the case. So, while I don’t like the exclusivism, it was obvious that some limits on inclusion, simply in terms of numbers, was what actually allowed it to work, socially. I don’t know what that means for anything, it’s just an observation. People can only know and relate meaningfully to a certain number of other people well.

Anyway, it was a glimpse of how the other half lives. I went for a little tour to see some of the artworks, walked past a room full of young boys in blazers who came from The King’s School, used the bathroom just to see what was in there, admired all the antiques (everywhere was a glorious old chair!), laughed at the fact that there were seats in the lifts and marvelled that there were places to go to in the lift called "The Buttery" ... It was an evening such as I may never experience again.

Tonight I’m going to an evening to learn about, pray for and give to East Africa, which ought to keep it all in perspective.