A Visit to the Hampstead Home Circle

On a Thursday evening in north London, six people sit around a green-felted dining table. Between them sits a quiet little wheel — smaller than a tournament model, but meticulously maintained. No one is drinking. The chips are a light blue plastic.

This is the Hampstead Home Circle. It has met here, in Philippa's dining room, every second Thursday for the last fourteen months. They have a membership of eight. The six present tonight are regulars; two are out of town.

They begin with a short review of the last session. Philippa mentions a recent Foundation lesson she has been reading. Another member shares a question they received from a curious colleague at work. The conversation settles into play.

I watched for ninety minutes. The pace was unhurried. Bets were small and deliberate. Every player, at some point, explained a decision aloud — not for an audience but as a way of clarifying their own thinking. Philippa occasionally asked a question and no one rushed to answer it.

The circle is a demonstration of what a community can be at its most intimate scale. There is no performance. There is no chase. There is a group of people who enjoy the wheel and each other, and who have arranged their weeks so that the combination survives.

If you have not yet joined a home circle — or started one — consider this a gentle nudge.