By Sarah Lazarovic

We’d seen the posters around town for the ‘Royal Society of Adventurology,’ and wondered who or what was beyond the rarefied dandy invitation to engage in a spot of bicycle polo on a balmy Sunday aft. We still don’t know from whence these dandies materialized, but never before have we so enjoyed an hour in Trinity Bellwoods.

Mallets in hand, a few dozen well-dressed adventurers played a rousing game of polo (in which one had to get past an imbecilic goalie to send the ball through), while fans shouted ‘pip pip,’ drank tea, ate scones and signed membership cards on which one had to declare whether or not one had consumption. The attention to detail was admirable – tea service, lovely typography, old school playing cards, a gent on an old-fashioned carriage, a taxidermied mascot, a Duchampian insignia, excellent haberdashery, and a crowd of eager and jovial traditionalists – it was all so well done we’d like to pledge lifetime membership right away.




The Royal Society plans more games so keep your eyes peeled for flyerage that hearkens back to frillier days.