The famous Flyfishers’ Club, Britain’s oldest fly-fishing club, is the latest male bastion to have the fair sex banging at the door. Women feel they have been unjustly excluded throughout its 193-year history, and now they want in. Seeing as the Garrick has at last buckled to the demand to admit women, they say the Flyfishers should too.
But I, for one, will be making no such demand. And not just because I have zero interest in fishing with flies. The truth is, I am probably the least clubbable person you are likely to meet. Although it’s taken me most of my life to finally recognise this fact. Over the decades I have eagerly joined quite a few clubs and societies, only to just as eagerly jump ship.
It all started in the 1970s when, at the tender age of 18, I joined the Sherlock Holmes Society.
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