Since it was still early, I decided to go to another event. Following the rules I picked a time that was
half an hour into the future and peered into my phone. The first event at eight o’clock was
something about a social club committee meeting at a pub called The Royal Oak. Whoever
had advertised the event waxed lyrical about its spectacular range of ales and
beers. If the Meetup didn’t work out I reasoned
I could have a pleasant swift half before making my way home. It looked like five people had signed up to
attend the event. I soon figured out
that the closest Tube station was Borough which was easy to get to from Old
Street. I joined the group (whatever it
was) and RSVPed to say I was going, and jumped onto a Northern Line train.
When I arrived I ordered a half from a spectacularly
disinterested and unfriendly barman, and then climbed a flight of stairs,
following the Meetup ‘joining instructions’.
I walked into the only room I could find; about ten people were sat
around a large table; they all had papers in front of them. I immediately knew that I had interrupted something
important.
‘This is the IVC committee meeting’ a voice said,
challenging my presence. There was a
long pause. ‘You can either sit in during the meeting, but we don’t know how
long we’ll be – and then we’ll be down for a drink, or you can join some of the
members who are probably already downstairs’.
A chap then stood up and took the initiative to escort me
out of the room and down the stairs back to the pub.
‘This is Andy, and this is Clare. And your name is?’ I told John, the president, my name. With introductions complete, he bounded
upstairs to return to his important meeting.
I sat down.
‘Are you a member?’ asked Andy.
‘No. I was on my way
home, and I saw the event advertised, and I thought I would come down to find
out what it was all about’.
IVC was an abbreviation for ‘Inter-Varsity Club’. Andy told me that it was formed
in the 1960’s from different university societies. It had about five thousand members and has a
number of different branches, both within London, and in Essex. The club runs a range of different activities
which can include meals out, trips to the theatre and walks. Members can run their own events if they
want, and there’s a central committee that co-ordinates everything. It’s totally not for profit (unlike other
social groups that I’ve heard of), and apparently had its own written constitution. There’s a nominal membership fee per
year. It sounded good fun.
Andy and Clare had known each other for years, and Clare had
been a member of IVC (off and on) for about fifteen years, having left and
re-joined a number of times. Andy
quizzed me as to how I saw it advertised.
It was at that point I decided to tell them both about my quest. Clare’s jaw dropped, and Andy was
incredulous. This began a whole new
conversation about technology.
‘IVC pre-dates the internet, and I think it might die a
death if we don’t do something about it’ said Andy. ‘We’ve run some joint Meetup and IVC events,
but really ought to decide what to do, whether we should just ditch our entire
website and just put everything on Meetup.
Because of when the group was formed, its members are of a certain age,
and we really do need some younger people to join’.
About three quarters of an hour later, the committee had
come down the stairs for some sustenance.
‘Are you a new member?’ Colin, the vice-president asked me, as he was
ordering a pint of craft ale at the bar.
I then spent a bit of time chatting to John about the club and its
activities. Everyone was warm and
friendly. They all clearly knew each
other for a long time, and they didn’t mind an unexpected gate crasher in their
midst.
Before leaving, I had a final chat with Andy. Any suspicions that he might have harboured
of me had disappeared, along with his second pint of lager. ‘You’re welcome to join’, he said, telling me
more about various events that are planned.
I shook John’s hand, and said goodbye to Clare. Moments later, I was walking towards London
Bridge station for the final leg of my journey home.
As I walked, I thought about the Meetup I had
just been to. I was pleased that I had told
them about the one hundred Meetup quest, and this led to quite a bit of discussion, but something was missing; I still felt
that I didn’t really have a measure of the group as a whole; I needed to ask
more questions. I needed to learn about
what motivated people. In the case of IVC it was clearly a case of
friendship, common interests and shared adventures, but there were more stories
that I needed to uncover. Why was John the president? How often did they have these committee meetings? There was something else: the welcome I was given by
the IVC people had given me some confidence.
By the time I put my key in the lock of my front door, I was more certain
about what I needed to do.
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