Category: PG Wodehouse

More About Books

The pleasure of rootling around in second-hand bookshops has largely been replaced by instant gratification delivered through shopping on the Internet; largely but not entirely.

Marmalade Matters

You have twenty-two days to submit your entry to the International Marmalade Awards, held annually at Dalemain in Cumbria. Marmalade is submitted from all over the world, so don’t be put off if you don’t live in the UK.

School Stories

It is striking how many successful authors started off by writing school stories: P G Wodehouse, The Pothunters; Evelyn Waugh, Decline and Fall; Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim, though it is set at university.

Off To The Races

The King George VI Chase  will be run over three miles at Kempton Park later today. At least one reader here will be watching and I’d like to congratulate her on being elected to the Jockey Club this year.

Good Reads

Yesterday’s post had a list of MPs who abstained in this week’s Commons vote on airstrikes in Syria. Today’s post is another list. I’m becoming an obsessive-compulsive list-maker. It’s not a new complaint; much of The Old Testament is lists of who begat whom and Burke’s and Debrett are keeping up the good work.

Hatchard Job

Gifford’s name has cropped up a few times here and, as he has never sent in his legal team to sue the socks off me, here he is again. He has drawn my attention to a poll conducted by Hatchards to pick the best novel of the past 200 years.

You Rang, M’Lord?

Reading P G Wodehouse is a source of great pleasure to me but it has a serious angle. It, subliminally, provides education on titles and forms of address and he doesn’t put a foot wrong.

A Pinch of Snuff

My late father-in-law favoured High Dry Toast. Norman Murphy, an authority on P G Wodehouse and much else besides, likes Kendal Brown. I have just ordered some Seville. From 1720 until 1981 they could all be purchased at Fribourg and Treyer’s shop in the Haymarket.

When I Was Five

“A house in Kensington and £2,000 a year.” Sounds a bit like some thing from the pen of Muriel Spark, doesn’t it? Well, you’d have to sell the house these days. When I started in the City I never aspired to a residence in Kensington but I thought that I could jog along on £4,000… Continue reading When I Was Five