In the hallowed annals of Lodge St. Olaf 1188, few tales are more cherished than the events of The Great Curry Night of 2024, when Trevor the Worshipful and the brethren of St. Olaf came together to honor a man whose dedication to the craft was as steadfast as the North Sea cliffs—Brother Douglas Nicol, the outgoing Provincial Grand Master of Aberdeenshire East.
This was no ordinary gathering. For five years, Douglas had carried the weighty mantle of his office with grace, wisdom, and an enthusiasm for the finer details of Masonic authority that could rival even the most fervent scholar. His commitment to Freemasonry, and particularly to the brethren of St. Olaf, was second to none. And so it was that Trevor and his merry band devised a plan to mark his retirement with a token of their appreciation—a gift both symbolic and humorous, like the man himself.
If ever there was a brother who could deliver a lecture on the difference between a gavel and a maul with the enthusiasm of a bard recounting ancient epics, it was Douglas Nicol.
“The gavel,” he would begin, his eyes twinkling with the prospect of another lesson, “is the symbol of authority in most Masonic lodges. But the maul, ah, the maul, brethren, that is a far older and more significant tool! A symbol of labor, of perseverance, and…” Here he would pause for dramatic effect, “…the true sign of power!”
Trevor, The Old Guard, The Young Blood, and even the perpetually bemused Day-Late the Dwarf had all heard this lecture so many times they could recite it in their sleep. And yet, Douglas’s passion for the subject was so infectious that no one could begrudge him his moment of scholarly joy.
Thus, the brethren of St. Olaf decided that their gift must not only honor Douglas’s service but also celebrate his unmatched depth of knowledge (and determination to share it) about this most Masonic of distinctions.
The presentation of the maul was arranged for one of Lodge St. Olaf’s legendary curry nights at Asha’s curry house in Peterhead, a venue renowned as much for its lamb rogan josh as for the laughter that echoed through its walls when the brethren gathered. Trevor the Worshipful presided over the evening, seated at the head of a table laden with naan bread, samosas, and steaming platters of aromatic curries.
As the plates were cleared and the brethren settled into the warm haze of camaraderie and a few well-earned pints, Trevor rose to his feet, a gleaming wooden box in his hands. The room fell silent, save for the occasional clink of a spoon against a dessert bowl.
“Brethren,” Trevor began, his beard lending him the air of a sage storyteller, “tonight, we honor a man whose dedication to our craft has been an inspiration to us all. Brother Douglas Nicol has led us with wisdom, strength, and an unparalleled commitment to detail—especially when it comes to gavels and mauls.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room, and even Douglas, seated in a place of honor beside Trevor, could not suppress a grin.
“It is said,” Trevor continued, “that Douglas knows more about the maul than most of us know about the ritual itself. And so, it is only fitting that we, the brethren of Lodge St. Olaf 1188, present him with this token of our gratitude.”
With a flourish, Trevor opened the wooden box to reveal a finely crafted maul, its handle smooth and polished, its head engraved with the words: To Douglas Nicol, With Gratitude and Affection from the Brethren of Lodge St. Olaf 1188.
Douglas rose to accept the gift, the maul cradled in his hands like a sacred relic. For a moment, he was speechless—a rarity, as everyone in the room well knew.
“Brethren,” he began at last, his voice thick with emotion, “this… this is the finest maul I have ever seen! And believe me, I’ve seen quite a few.”
The room erupted in laughter and applause, and Douglas, emboldened by the camaraderie, launched into what would later be referred to as The Definitive Lecture on the Maul, a twenty-minute ode to the tool’s significance that left even the waitstaff at Asha’s nodding in appreciation.
As the night wore on, the maul became a centerpiece of conversation, passed from hand to hand as the brethren admired its craftsmanship. Douglas, his heart full and his appetite well-sated, promised to treasure it always.
When the evening drew to a close and the brethren parted ways, the tale of the maul began its journey into St. Olaf lore. And in the weeks that followed, whenever Douglas visited the Lodge, the brethren would glance at the ceremonial gavel in his hand and whisper, “Aye, but does he wish it were the maul?”
Thus, the gifting of the maul became not only a gesture of thanks but a reminder of the bonds that tied the brethren together—a shared history, a shared sense of humor, and a shared appreciation for the finer points of Masonic tradition.
And as Trevor the Worshipful looked back on the evening, he knew that the spirit of St. Olaf—its warmth, its wit, and its unwavering respect for brotherhood—had been encapsulated in that simple yet profound gesture.
The End… But the Maul Lives On.