Boar's Head

Tonight, my friends, is Seabury's annual foray into Elizabethan revelry. Being seminarians, we begin, of course, with celebration of the Eucharist. This time, I am told, we will worship according to the liturgy from the 1604 Book of Common Prayer (which technically is not Elizabethan, but never mind-- this varies from year to year. Just go with me on this, okay?).

After worship, those gathered (often suitably costumed for the era) proceed to the refectory for an ample repast and general revelry. Said revelry is organized (and I use the term very loosely) by the middler class, and generally consists of roasting the seniors, newly recovered from their GOE adventures.

I will admit to approaching this with a certain trepidation. Not only are middlers historically diligent about digging up stories of senior quirks and oddities, adventures and piccadillos; but classmates are also usually willing - nay, eager - to rat each other out. And while I have, by and large, managed to maintain suitable decorum thoughout my seminary career, there has been a weak moment or two...

(note to self: if a vivacious redhead named Kate ever again starts talking about having "the perfect outfit for you!," do not hesitate: run.)

Lord, preserve us through this night.