“Have you noticed that the mallard duck, in its Spring plumage, sports the colours of the O.R. Society?”  This acute ornithological observation was made by Tom Poole (St 46-50), himself splendidly attired in OR blazer, socks and tie, when he and Hugh Davies (St.  55-60) bestowed honorary membership on a drake in the garden of Hilly and Michael Cansdale (T 49-54) during the Somerset Lunch held on Saturday 5th June, 2010.

It was a convivial occasion for the 35 guests – perfect weather, a splendid lunch, in a large garden next to Wells Cathedral.  Undoubted high point of the day was the lusty singing of the Floreat, which would surely have equalled anything heard in TSR of old.  This “House Shout” must have bewildered the wildfowl on the moat at the bottom of the garden, as well as disturbing a serious concert rehearsal in the cathedral a few feet away.  For those whose memory had slipped a little, the words had been printed out by our host, who accompanied on his accordion.  Some - clearly swots in their day, or maybe Upper Bench Latinists - even asserted that they did not need the words, 50 years on, but we doubted.   

Senior OR present was Paul Williamson (Br 38 – 43).  John Bickersteth (Sh. 35-40), former next door neighbour as Bishop of Bath and Wells, had a family commitment and sent his greetings.  Most came from the 1950s, vintage years indeed. We would have liked a few younger ones, not least some lady O.R.s, though Jane, wife of Andrew Midgley (SF 57-61), boasted of being Old Roedean, which almost counted.  As ever we were reminded of the individuality of Rugbeians in the paths trodden since school.  To name a few - law, accountancy, the diplomatic service, veterinary research, the running of classic car rallies, specialist direct marketing , and so on. . .  a fascinating miscellany of people, and careers.  And to keep order were two retired ‘beaks’, David Ray and Richard Smith, with his wife Anne.

There had been the promise of 2.30pm tours of the cathedral and the Bishop’s Palace next door, but no-one bothered, and it was 4pm before guests departed.  Few of us knew each other beforehand, but we left as firm friends, wondering who would be the host for the next Somerset lunch, which surely there must be.  

Floreat sung with gusto