30th October 2025
A Tale Worthy of the Halls of St Olaf
It was upon an autumn eve, beneath the pale and watchful stars, that Alastair McPherson was raised to the High and Sublime Degree of Master Mason. Long had his road been, winding through the trials and tempests of time, and beset by the great multitude of seekers who had, in recent years, flocked to the gates of Cruden Bay to knock upon the ancient door of Lodge St Olaf.
For in those days there had come a resurgence — a rekindling of the old light — and the Craft, once thought to wane, burned again with a steadfast flame. The brethren of St Olaf, noble and true, found themselves with more aspirants than time itself could easily accommodate. Thus it came to pass that Alastair’s own journey, though begun in earnest, was long delayed. The turning of the year brought the Closed Season of 2025, when the working tools were laid down and the temple rested; and even when the time of reopening drew near, uncertainty still hung over the Lodge like a gathering mist.
Yet fate, ever the friend of the faithful, had not forgotten Alastair.
Right Worshipful Master Daly the Dwarf, stout of heart and firm of purpose, gathered a fellowship — a company of the willing, forged of both the old and the new. Among them were rising stars whose zeal shone bright as dawn, and seasoned Past Masters whose wisdom ran deep as the roots of ancient trees. Though some of the Lodge’s mightiest were absent, called away by work or kinship’s bonds, the brethren who stood that night formed a company worthy of legend.
And lo! The degree they wrought was one of splendour. Each word, each movement, each symbol was wrought with precision, as though guided by unseen hands. When the moment came for Alastair to prove his readiness, he rose with calm and clarity. His answers rang true, echoing through the Lodge with the surety of one who had walked with diligence and learned with humility. His mastery was not merely of ritual, but of spirit — and all who witnessed his raising knew it to be a moment of worth.
When the labours were complete and the light of Masonry shone full upon him, the brethren retired to The Level, that hallowed hall of mirth and fellowship. There, amid laughter and the clinking of glasses, the bonds of brotherhood were renewed. The tables groaned beneath a feast fit for kings, and the ale flowed as freely as the stories of old.
And so ended the night of Alastair McPherson’s raising — a night of triumph, patience rewarded, and friendship sealed anew. Long shall it be remembered in the chronicles of Lodge St Olaf, as a beacon to those who follow, and a testament to the enduring spirit of the Craft.
For in the end, as in all great tales, the journey proved as noble as the destination — and the brother who waited long found his reward among the fellowship of Masters.