London is in festal mood as November begins: this year, Eid and Diwali opened the season, leading on to the Church’s great celebrations of the lives of all her saints and sinners, Bonfire Night, and then the ancient civic ceremony of the Lord Mayor’s Show. And in the middle of it all comes the College Youths’ Anniversary Dinner.

This year’s venue, once more, was the Tower Hotel: it’s an ugly concrete ziggurat, but the genius of the design becomes clear when you get inside, making the most of the views across St Katharine’s Dock and Tower Bridge, and along the river. We gather in a long, first-floor room overlooking the bridge, but no-one spends very much time gazing out of the window. There’s a bar at each end, and several hundred acquaintances to be made and renewed in the middle.

Eventually, three hundred and one members and guests have found their way to one of the bars – sometimes both – and are talking and listening. They have come from all over the world, and Australian, Canadian, American, accents cut across voices from Scotland, Cornwall, and everywhere between. So the talk is of journeys and hotels as well as pubs and peals: some of the diners are discussing the peals they rang yesterday and this morning, others are lamenting London beer prices, a few are telling stories of yesterday night’s clubbing at “Reflex” – but all are looking forward to the evening they really came for. This morning some had walked the City in the footsteps of Lord Brereton (the Society’s first Master) guided by Jim Philips: there’s not much left of the City as it was in 1637, but Jim’s treasure-house of stories and his love for the Society’s history had brought it lambently back to life.

By the peal book, they’re admiring the calligraphy as they turn over the pages with their free hands. As recent performances are recalled, there’s already talk of next year: which tower they’d love to get for a peal, and which is the most convenient for the hotel. We can’t ignore the Society’s history here, either (the second edition is on sale to all those wanting to add a splash of puce to their bookshelves). Some engravings of ringing events, made originally for London’s various illustrated newspapers, are on display, captioned with historical notes and alternative descriptions. We’re assured of the accuracy of the pictures, and today’s members enjoy comparing the dress and ringing styles of their predecessors with those of their friends.

Over the laughter came a voice announcing that dinner was served – it reminded us to consult the seating plan before going through, although most people were navigating by friends and bottles of wine rather than table numbers. The Tower hotel has always impressed us with good service, and the last difficulties with the delivery of wine seemed almost completely solved. A well-drilled team of waiters and waitresses ensures that the whole company is served almost simultaneously, and the food they bring is excellent. This year’s main course of venison sounded risky, but tasted excellent. I do not think the same could be said of Peter Mullen’s Grace, but perhaps for certainty I should consult the Ringing World Journal of Theology.

We could happily go on discussing the past year and the year to come all by ourselves, but inevitably the top table must keep interrupting. We are here in part to celebrate the events our officers have arranged for us to enjoy, and to hear them give their own account; but first the room is reminded of some achievements, and informed of others they had not known about. The Master takes wine with members who took part in certain peals and competitions, went on tours, held offices, or reached milestones of personal achievement and length of membership. Even in this long evening, only the most significant accomplishments can be recalled: perhaps the clearest measure of the fierce activity of the Society over the past year is that even winning the National Twelve Bell Competition does not guarantee you a toast.

After coffee and a short break, we returned to our seats for the speeches proper. The Master opened by proposing the Loyal Toast and the Toast to the Church, during which she appreciated the excellent relationships between the Society and the churches whose bells it rings, and recalled a sermon preached by the Rector of Trinity, Wall Street, at the recent dedication of its new ring of bells. We are responsible for what he had called “an iconic, sonic boom”. Introducing the Priest in Charge of St Magnus the Martyr, she looked forward to the installation of a new ring of bells there, to add to the boom echoing from the City’s churches through its centres of commerce. Initially nervous of the microphone following an unfortunate experience with a new PA system, an exercise class, and a funeral, Fr Philip went on to draw on his experience of the use of bells in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, and to remind us that our own ringing was but the echo of the bells of heaven.

The toast to the guests was proposed by the Junior Steward, who introduced Derek Sibson to respond. Derek took old age and forgetfulness as his theme, and then illustrated his point amusingly by reading out a summary of the Central Council’s current activities, which must co-incidentally have been written on the back of his speech. Fortunately, he realised before too long, and gave way to the handbell touch.

This year’s touch demonstrated the musical possibilities of the “enormous tittums” coursing order, in which each bell courses between its immediate neighbours. An elegant link method brought the sixteen bells into position, and a lead of Kent was rung when they got there. Another pretty link unravelled the intertwining octaves, and rounds came up to awe-struck applause and shouts of “more”!

Judith Rogers had been asked to propose the toast to the Society because of her close connections with the present Master, and because, as she described, she is “a College Youth through and through”. Through her extensive ringing family, she felt deeply rooted in the College Youth’s history, and she shared with most of those present, very profound emotions about the Society and its focal institution, the dinner.

At the conclusion of the evening’s formal proceedings, the Secretary is expected to summarise the year, offer votes of thanks, welcome new members, and commemorate those who have died, all as concisely and humorously as possible. It’s not an easy job, but John Hughes-D’Aeth knows a bit about bringing things to a timely conclusion, and did so admirably. The final toast, drunk in silence, is to “the Fragrant Memories of the Masters of 300, 200, and 100 Years Ago”. Many of the members attending tonight expect to be in their prime when we add “400” to that list, and Lord Brereton is toasted again by name – although we know he is toasted silently with every sip at the anniversary dinner, for the legacy he left us, which we develop, renew, and hand on.

The Anniversary Dinner marks the end of the society’s year: in a few day’s time the Master will hand over to her successor, and a new Junior Steward will join the top table and begin collecting material for his speech. Organising ringing and ringing events, especially on the scale that College Youths have now come to expect, requires great patience – witness Chris Kippin’s frozen smile as he battled to match ringers with towers and the requirements of churches – and a wholehearted commitment to the occasion. As Sunday runs on and we drift away home, our thanks must go, then, to all those who work hard from week to week to make the Society’s numerous events happen, and to bring so many of us together over the Anniversary Dinner weekend. The Society is often in festal mood, and in the middle of it all comes the College Youths’ Anniversary Dinner.

‘Turning Course’