What do you know about the Freemasons? I picture them as groups of middle-aged, professional men, who are willing to be blindfolded, to roll their trousers up and stand, with exposed socks and garters, on a star-like pattern on the floor of a lofty, cold, chapel-like Masonic lodge.

I imagine they face some sort of altar, where each man bears his chest - or part of it - recites Masonic verses and swears life-long allegiance to a grand master.

Of course, it might not be like that at all. For all I really know, they may meet up in the lodge, but quickly adjourn to the more welcoming environment of a fun pub, where they have a few games of pool and a couple of pints, then watch the big match on the wide-screen telly.

The only thing I know for certain is that they all have odd handshakes.

It is because we know so little about their workings that people view Masons with suspicion, and a certain degree of amusement.

We wonder why grown-up men should feel the urge to behave like this.

Secret societies are intriguing. It is not so much their special chants or their passwords - even the cubs and brownies have those. It is the way they operate behind closed doors.

Men - and these societies are always male - seem to love all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. In America, chaps of a similar age join the Buffalo Lodge, where the members perform their rituals wearing dead animals on their heads. I dread to think what their initiation ceremonies entail.

Imagine if our own Women's Institute operated on similar grounds to the Masons - with new recruits forced to strip to bra, pants, stockings and suspenders and pledge their troth before the Big Chief Flower-Arranger. I doubt there would be more than a dozen members across the entire country.

At least we all know what the WI does - we go along to their shows and craft fairs and buy their home-made cakes and jam. Its members are friendly and welcoming.

Yet the Freemasons appears to exist to help no-one but themselves - putting in a word for each other in top-job head-hunting circles.

Coronation Street poked fun at these all-male in-the-closet gatherings when Curly Watts went through a bizarre initiation ceremony to join the Wetherfield Square Dealers, populated by the likes of butcher Fred Elliott and grocer Alf Roberts. When the society's secret slogan leaked out, poor Curly got the blame.

The Masons are resisting calls for more openness. I wonder why - if they've nothing to hide?

For pity's sake, even the Mile High Club has gone public. Members can now buy official T-shirts, badges and other souvenirs marking their entry to that revered institution. I intend to wear mine with pride.

The Masons could make a fortune flogging socks, garters and vests bearing their logo and battle-cry. For Heaven's sake, let the British public have a look behind the scenes. We promise we won't laugh - well not much.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.