In the high summer of 2024, the sun cast its golden glow upon the cobbled streets of Peterhead, where masons from across Scotland and beyond gathered for a momentous occasion. Brother David Wemyss was to be installed as the Right Worshipful Provincial Grand Master of Aberdeenshire East, and the Keith Lodge stood at the heart of this great assembly. It was an event that promised grandeur, solemnity, and camaraderie—the kind of occasion where Trevor the Worshipful knew he must represent Lodge St. Olaf 1188 with dignity and pride.
Yet fate would conspire to make him stand alone.
Trevor had journeyed from Cruden Bay in the early light, his beard immaculately combed, his regalia pristine, and his mind focused on the solemn duty ahead. But as he stood at the entrance of Keith Lodge, awaiting the arrival of his supposed companion, the notorious Gordon Day-Late, his concern was thinly veiled.
True to his name, Day-Late arrived at the eleventh hour, breathless and disheveled, without a jacket or tie. The office bearers at the door, pillars of decorum and propriety, took one look at his state and shook their heads firmly.
“Rules are rules, Brother Day-Late,” one intoned with a note of finality.
Trevor, with a sigh as deep as the North Sea, watched as Day-Late retreated to a nearby café to nurse his embarrassment and a lukewarm coffee. And so it was that Trevor, unaccompanied but undaunted, stepped into the grand hall of Keith Lodge as the sole representative of St. Olaf.
The ceremony itself was nothing short of magnificent. Beneath the vaulted ceilings of Keith Lodge, illuminated by the soft glow of ancient chandeliers, the brethren of Aberdeenshire East and far beyond filled the hall with their presence. Trevor found himself surrounded by men of great station: Provincial Grand Masters, officers of the Grand Lodge of Scotland, and representatives of Lodges whose histories stretched back through the ages.
At the centre of it all stood Ramsey McGhee, the Grand Master of All of Scotland, who conducted the installation with the precision and gravitas befitting his office. The air was thick with the weight of tradition as Brother David Wemyss took his solemn oaths, adorned in the resplendent regalia of his new station.
Trevor watched with admiration, his heart swelling with pride—not just for the craft, but for the unity it inspired. As the ceremony progressed, he couldn’t help but feel sadness for his rejected companion Day-Late the Dwarf, who would most assuredly have enjoyed the spectacle in equal measure.
When the final words of the ceremony were spoken, and Brother Wemyss was proclaimed the new Right Worshipful Provincial Grand Master of Aberdeenshire East, the hall erupted into applause. Trevor joined with gusto, his hands clapping not just for the new leader, but for the enduring spirit of the fraternity.
Following the ceremonials, the brethren assembled outside on Broad Street beneath the watchful gaze of the Marshall Keith statue. The photograph taken that day would become a testament to the gathering of a mighty fellowship, a moment frozen in time.
Trevor stood tall among the minor dignitaries as they watched the great and the good from Scottish Freemasonry’s elite line up in rank and file for the commemorative photograph, their regalia gleaming in the sunlight. The rejected Day-Late looked wistfully on nursing another cold cup of coffee thinking what might have been, he really does need to get a new battery for that feckin watch!
With the formalities concluded, the brethren adjourned to the banquet hall of ‘The Palace’, where a feast awaited that would rival those of kings. The tables were adorned with fine linens and gleaming cutlery, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meats, rich gravies, and freshly baked bread.
Trevor took his seat among brethren from far-flung Lodges, their conversations lively and warm. Stories of past endeavours and future plans flowed as freely as the wine. Yet it was when the doors to the hall opened once more that Trevor became the envy of all present.
There stood his wife, Jo, radiant and poised, joining the gathering to the astonishment of the assembled brethren. Her presence added an air of elegance to the evening, and as she took her place beside Trevor, the room seemed to hum with admiration.
“Trevor,” whispered one Past Master from across the table, “how did you manage this?”
Trevor, with a sly grin beneath his beard, simply raised his glass. “St. Olaf always punches above its weight,” he replied, to raucous laughter.
As the evening wore on, the speeches began. Toasts were raised to the newly installed Brother Wemyss, to the Grand Lodge, and to the shared bonds of fellowship that transcended Lodges and borders. Trevor himself was not called upon to speak, but on the off chance he may be called upon to do so, he had noted down a few words which if called upon to give, he knew would carry just the right weight.
“Brethren,” he would say, rising to his feet, “today we have witnessed the continuation of a legacy. It is a privilege to stand here, not just as a representative of Lodge St. Olaf, but as a brother among brothers. Let us carry forward the spirit of this day in all that we do.”
The room would have erupted into applause, and as Trevor sat, Jo would give his hand a quiet squeeze.
As Trevor and Jo made their way back to Cruden Bay under a starlit sky, Trevor reflected on the day’s events. Though his journey had begun alone, it had been filled with the warmth of shared purpose and the laughter of brethren. And while Day-Late might have missed his chance, the tale of Trevor the Worshipful’s lone quest to the Installation of Bro. Davie Wemyss in Peterhead would echo through the halls of The Level for years to come.
The End… For Now.