Quotations from P G Wodehouse are copyright of, and reprinted by permission of, the Trustees of the Wodehouse Estate © 2012 The P G Wodehouse Society (UK)

Wodehouse Walks at Heywood Hill: September/October 2009

by Norman Murphy

And it all started off so innocuously. Heywood Hill were planning this Wodehouse exhibition in Curzon Street, Edward Cazalet and Tony Ring had assembled superb material for it and the Society was eager to help in any way needed. Our Chairman led the way by light-heartedly suggesting a Berkshire pig should parade down Curzon Street and, when asked if this was possible, she simply rubbed her magic lamp (two phone calls) and Gloria, a Black Berkshire, became the toast of Mayfair.

With this sort of leadership, it was clear that the odd Wodehouse Walk should be offered during the four weeks of the exhibition. Nothing too strenuous or time-consuming, you understand. Just a short walk to Berkeley Street (Bertie’s flat), around the corner to Charles Street to see Halsey Court, Aunt Dahlia’s London residence and the Junior Ganymede. Thence back across Berkeley Square with a couple of London stories along the way, up to Dover Street and an explanation of the Drones Club origins (fictional and half fictional). My never-to-be-forgotten meeting with a man who was forced to drop in the club swimming pool with all his clothes on when his so-called friends pulled back the last ring, then around two more corners to the main source of the Drones, which is still going as a club. Then a short stroll down to the Burlington Arcade, a warning why you still mustn’t wear a sword there and finishing with a scholarly explanation on Uncle Tom’s cow creamer outside a shop displaying silver rabbits, stags and foxes.

It was agreed that I would do one Walk a week on Wednesday afternoons at 2.30. Heywood Hill would advise their customers of this rare treat by email, asking them to reserve a place if they wanted to come, and asked me how many I wanted on each Walk. I prefer 8-10 but, since this was a special occasion, I stretched it to 12 and Heywood Hill accepted this – though I have an idea they wondered if anybody would take up the offer.

The opening ceremony, a splendid evening, has been described elsewhere (please click here) so I’ll begin with the first Wednesday when I arrived at 11.30 to do exhibition-assistant duty (making sure people didn’t miss things, ensuring they entered the competition and answering an extraordinary variety of questions). Sometimes my answers backfired as in the case of “What did I reckon was Wodehouse’s best book?” I think that’s The Mating Season, with The Code of the Woosters a close second – purely a personal choice. And that meant that copies of both books were being bought and I had to tell Heywood Hill that they had better get a few more copies of each, which they did. And I’m glad to say they sold out as well.

By 2.20 the shop was full of would-be Walkers, one of whom turned out to be a niece of PG’s, and at 2.30 I assembled them all outside and explained carefully we were only going to do one quarter of the ‘official’ Bertie Wooster Walk. I also made sure to appoint a Rear Marker or sheepdog (the tallest man in the group) to ensure people didn’t get lost.

Norman in the background with his hat and his last walking group with Lottie the terrier outside Heywood Hill

I don’t remember the exact number on that first Walk, it was certainly at least 12, but I recall a couple of spouses had come along as well. In addition, there was the writer Harry Mount and a photographer, who were doing a piece on the exhibition for the Evening Standard newspaper. They asked politely if they could tag along as well, so I think we were up to about 15/16 when I set off with Wodehouse’s niece beside me.

I always begin these Walks by asking if anybody has read In Search of Blandings but this time nobody had, which meant an essential introductory explanation as to why and how I began my search for real locations in Wodehouse’s stories and the promise that by the end of even this short Walk, they would believe me. It all went very well and I made a dozen converts – including a nice chap who said at the end: “Well, I didn’t believe you at the beginning but I do now. I shall read my Wodehouse from now on from a completely different aspect. To see the places he had in mind has been a revelation.”

So that was all right. We finished in the Burlington Arcade but Harry Mount asked if I would mind the photographer taking some shots of us both and that took up more time before I got back to Heywood Hill. Before I went home, I checked and found that each Wednesday Walk had been booked solid by Heywood Hill customers and they had started a waiting list. Little did I realise what was coming.

On the following Friday, the Evening Standard devoted a page to the exhibition and to the Walk, praising both to the skies, along with photos of Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie, Harry Mount and yours truly. That was all right. What was NOT all right is that the paper announced the Walks were taking place on Wednesdays at 2.30. It did NOT mention that people should book through Heywood Hill! So – how many was I going to have the following week?

An email from Murray Hedgcock summed up my doubts. I call it schadenfreude though I am sure he will deny it, but he reminded me that 400,000 people read the Evening Standard and if 1 per cent of the readership turned up, things could get very interesting! Evasive action was clearly called for so I suggested to Heywood Hill that I do two Walks a week, on Wednesdays and Thursday; just to be on the safe side, you understand. I was flattered by their acceptance till I discovered their waiting list was growing longer and they began booking Thursday names as I watched.

I must admit I slept badly on Tuesday night. It was all very well leading a popular Walk but how popular was it going to be? Twenty? Thirty? Forty? Fifty?

When I went in at 11.30, there were a dozen or so people admiring the exhibition but by 1 o’clock, there were about twenty or more and I was being asked if there was time to have lunch before the Walk started? Had they booked the Walk through Heywood Hill? No, a friend had sent them a copy of the Evening Standard and they had come along. Where from? “From Gloucester, for the day. For the Walk!” Then there were the two ladies who had come up from Bournemouth “for the day; for the Walk.” And after this had happened a few times and I had tried to explain what should have happened, a very pretty girl asked sadly if it was true the Walk had to be booked. “Where are you from?” “From Birmingham University, for the day. For the Walk!” What could I do?

So, at 2.30 my group of 25/26/27/28 (they never stood still long enough for me to count) assembled outside, I selected my Rear Guard, reminded him that lots of people were not Londoners and didn’t know our traffic so it was his job to keep them all safe and said I wouldn’t start talking anywhere until he had arrived. He accepted the responsibility very well, though I think his girlfriend was a bit surprised, and we started off. As we walked towards Berkeley Street, a phrase from Wodehouse floated into my head. It’s the occasion when a keen golfer is breaking the course record and, towards the end of his round, catches up with the Wrecking Crew, the elderly gentlemen who, with their caddies, covered the fairway ahead looking like one of those mass migrations of the Middle Ages. But, once I had made them realise they had to get cosy and start squeezing together so I didn’t have to shout too loudly, it went very well.

The following day, the first Thursday Walk should have been only the 12 who had booked through Heywood Hill but, as I called them outside, a nice young man asked if he could join. He was off to America that night; his father had told him on no account to miss the exhibition and if there was a Walk as well ... So he came along plus a party of three who had listened to him and told me they weren’t going to America, but they had tried to book and been told there was no room but couldn’t I possibly fit in just three more ...?

And so it went on till the fourth and last week, when I did five Walks! I didn’t mean to but the Society AGM was on the Tuesday, which meant a 5 p.m. Walk that evening. It comprised 12-15, about five Society members and the remainder Heywood Hill customers who just happened ‘to be around’ when I announced I was off to do another Walk. Wednesday saw two Walks because a fellow member of the Savage Club had telephoned to ask if he and a few friends could possibly ...? He is a very nice chap so I said I’d do a special morning Walk just for him and his pals. When we started, I reminded him he had said “a few friends”. He had, three in all. “So who on earth are the other ten or so?” He thought they had booked through Heywood Hill; I thought they were with him and, when taxed with it, the ten claimed they had thought it was an official Walk anyway so had come along on the off chance.

That afternoon, the last Wednesday, was the worst/best of the lot. I think I had 31 that day but it all went splendidly and I have to admit that having at least three very pretty girls hanging on my every word and laughing their heads off at all the right places did help things considerably. So, on the last Thursday and Friday, I did two more, the last being led by a delightful well-behaved terrier called Lottie and the Heywood Hill Wodehouse Walks came to an end. I am a bit too old to have ‘groupies’ but, based on the reactions I got and the kind words and messages I received afterwards, I am thinking of starting a fan club. There were some very pretty girls on the Walks. And I should add here that, amongst the visitors to the exhibition I showed around before the last Walk was a certain John Roberts, who has the double distinction of being a keen Wodehousean as well as being Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court. Nice chap, I thought.

I cannot conclude without mentioning the Heywood Hill staff, who were magnificent. Their humour, enthusiasm and sheer hard work impressed me from the first day – and I had no idea what strenuous physical labour was involved in running a book shop. Those women must have carried around half a ton or so of books every day or so. And their knowledge of their stock and what their customers wanted – or thought they wanted, was truly remarkable.

It was quite a month. I don’t know how many new Society members we got out of it; quite a few I think – but it was all great fun. In fact, it was such fun, I think I should start doing regular Wodehouse Walks again as part of the Society programme. Two or three a year perhaps? Wooster Sauce and this website will keep you informed.

The book Three Wodehouse Walks by N.T.P. Murphy has just been published and is available to order using this form.