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Gold Bats v Kirby Strollers, played at Audley End House on Sunday 10th August 2008 In their last match of the season, the Gold Bats defeated the freemason side Kirby Strollers. The match was played in the beautiful grounds of Audley End house. The setting was one of which PGW himself would have approved. A spectacular Jacobean mansion, and lake, provided a backdrop on one side of the ground and a rich variety of trees formed the rest of the boundary. Only a high wind and a threat of rain marred this idyllic afternoon, but by good fortune the rain held off until the match was won. The Gold Bats batted first. Skipper Mark Wilcox opened the batting and scored a quick 17 runs. Veteran Mike Savage scored at a more sedate pace before retiring having reached the agreed limit of 25 runs per batsman. Top scorer for the side was Ken Walker, who scored 28 before retiring. Bowlers were limited to six overs each. Eight bowlers were tried by the Strollers without much success until Patrick Kidd came on late in the innings to demolish our tail end, taking 3 wickets for 10 runs. His slow lobs, aided by the large cedar trees behind his bowling arm, caused some problems for the batsmen. As a sports journalist, Patrick was able to make much of this in his report next day in The Times. The Gold Bats' total of 158 included 31 extras. That 14 wides were bowled is almost worthy of an entry in the cricketing records. After tea, the teams staggered onto the field again well replenished by the excellent chocolate cake provided by Pat Savage. The Gold Bats' bowling and fielding proved too much for the opposition, who were all out for 69 runs. Lineard their opener, with 27 runs, was the only batsman to score double figures. The scores seemed incidental after a match enjoyed by everyone in such idyllic surroundings and the gratifying news that the Strollers were able to raise the significant sum of £500 for the charity Ataxia UK. The P G Wodehouse Society (UK) cricket team The Gold Bats v The Hollywood Golden Oldies CC on August 3rd 2008 This game was played at the Metropolitan Police Sports Ground in Bushey, Hertfordshire at 2:00 pm. The event proved to be a great success, even though the weather was a little damp at times. The HGOCC are on a tour in this country and played their first game against the Gold Bats. Included in their tour is a day at Lords, where of course Plum played, and a game against the MCC Social side at Gerrards Cross. Plum also played for the Hollywood Cricket Team, being one of it's founding members, and HGOCC is a sister club to this. Members of the P G Wodehouse Society (UK) will be pleased to know that a full report on this interesting day will be published in Wooster Sauce. Below please find below two photographs of this day.
The following hilarious letter was written to our Wooster Sauce editor by Andrew Chapman, a member of the society who lives in Shropshire. Murray Hedgcock, our umpire and society patron, was the major subject of this letter and so his reply is also given below! Gold Bats v Hollywood The Editor 5th August 2008 Dear Sir, I refer to the after match festivities at Bushey when the Gold Bats played the Hollywood Cricket Club on Sunday 3rd August. As the match itself will no doubt be more than adequately reported elsewhere, I need not touch on the historic nature of the day, when England won at cricket against an overseas side, but I would like to draw attention to the most interesting, informative and humorous discourse given by Mr Murray Hedgecock after the game. Mr Hedgecock touched on an amazing variety of aspects of English, American and Australian culture related to the leather and willow, including pointing out to our guests that Australia took a baseball team to the U S of A in the 1880s and won the series 10-3. However, it is important, I feel, that any of your overseas readers present at this august occasion are enabled to avoid the potential for confusion inherent in an otherwise excellently conceived and delivered commentary. It was after all less than a hundred years ago when Plum himself helped to found the Hollywood club, and I fear that because of their relatively recent exposure to the game and the antipodean lilt and authority with which Mr Hedgecock delivered his treatise, our American cousins are in danger of conceiving the notion that cricket, this most English of activities, has its roots in Australia, rather than in villages the length and breadth of our own dear land. Regrettably we have to concede that the Australians have developed a theoretical and practical understanding of the game which is temporarily superior to that demonstrated by the teams selected in Mr Hedgecock’s adopted homeland – Americans with an enthusiasm for the history of the game may have knowledge of this – but when the Pilgrim Fathers set sail in the early 1600s, the use of wicket gate at the entrance to the churchyard was in its infancy as a target for the bowler and a castle to be defended by the batsman, and when the religious dissenters landed in Virginia and Pennsylvania, the design of their churches was perhaps deliberately different in this vital detail of design and construction, with the tragic result that cricket never properly developed in New England. When on the other hand Mr Hedgecock’s forefathers set sail for Australia in the convict ships of the 1700s–1800s, the wicket gate of the church had metamorphosed into the set of stumps which could easily and temporarily be transported to the sacred square, the centre of the traditional village green. It was natural that those transportees, and indeed others of like mind, should seize every opportunity to practise this most rewarding of recreations in their Aussie prison yards. It was equally inevitable that a rivalry, nay, even a hostility, should develop between those who sent men to the ends of the earth for stealing a loaf of bread for their hungry children, and the aforesaid transportees settling in new lands so far away from home and family. Accordingly, Australia has learned to breed venomous fast bowlers while England generally relies on the guile of its spinners. English cricket eventually died for the first time on 29th August 1882 at the Oval in London - but the Ashes were rescued in Melbourne and brought back to Lords the following year by Lord Darnley. Since then, many men of both nationalities have breathed new life into this blend of rivalry, hostility and, yes, even enmity, as when questions were asked in both parliaments about the English tactics in 1932-33. But it has to be conceded that in all but a few test series since the flowers of England’s youth were taken in two world wars – with notable exceptions – the Hussies have had the edge. Nowadays for the wider world, the kings of cricket live in the southern hemisphere, but, sir, in the sporting days of yore, England’s Glory was more than a box of vestas. In many of those Ashes test cricket series in England, rain came to the rescue of a potentially embarrassed English team, the result being a draw. In our game against transoceanic opponents on 3rd August, rain again intervened – to the advantage of the Gold Bats. The English team won against a frozen Hollywood side shivering from the effects of weather which contrasted alarmingly with that of their own homeland. But in England, especially when we are batting and have a chance to win, we have on occasions to appease the gods of cricket and complete a game in conditions which are a test of character. Indeed, the fact that Mr Hedgecock umpired throughout the match without a murmur about the conditions perfectly illustrates the character-building qualities of the game. Perhaps we shall be able to welcome back our American cousins some day to play a game in weather which compares more favourably with the best of conditions for cricket. We certainly hope so, and, who knows, the result may be very different. One final thought. Mr Hedgecock laid down, I suggest, in his reference to the victorious Australian tour of the USA 120 years ago, a way forward for English cricket. If the American baseball leagues could possibly persuade the Australian cricketers to play baseball instead, it might leave the coast clearer for England to find a way to beat the other test sides like South Africa, the West Indies, India ... On reflection, perhaps that would be too much to ask. Let us concentrate, then, on encouraging the United States of America to play cricket – and we might be able to look forward to an English victory in more than a single test series – until the memory of the Boston Tea Party fires the passions of the eastern states and, sadly, like those other matches, England’s Glory will once again become but a sporting memory. I remain, sir, Andrew Chapman (signed) PS. I understand from Mr Hedgecock that his ancestors settled in Australia of their own accord. Any inference that compulsory repatriation might have applied to his ancestors is entirely coincidental and without foundation. Murray's reply runs as follows: Dear Sir Apart from pointing out that there is no “e” in the middle of my surname, and stating that I have proof that my ancestors were all free settlers in the Great South Land, I can have nothing but high praise for your remarkable analysis, and especially its imaginative construction. I am also most gratified that it confirms that at least one of my audience stayed awake. Now, if you can only persuade Ye Ed to publish it in full, given her continuing space problems (she even has some of my most urgent copy kept on file) … That I fear may be an even more difficult task than having England regain the Ashes next year. Yours appreciatively MBH The Flower Show cricket match (click here) The Society's Real Tennis Team "The Nodders" is born! (click here) Charterhouse cricket match (click here) Society Meeting 8 July 2008 (click here) The Guildford Big Read The Guildford Book Festival, which will take place from the 16th to the 25th of October 2008, was officially launched on the 28th June 2008 with the Guildford Big Read. This featured a celebration of PG Wodehouse. The afternoon included singing, pig racing, cake, balloons, and giveaways of the new Wodehouse books published by Arrow. Author and new Society Patron Simon Brett emceed the event, and there was a guest appearance from the actress Prunella Scales. The Society was represented by Hilary Bruce and Norman and Elin Murphy, who manned a table with tea towels and various literature including membership leaflets and issues of Wooster Sauce and By The Way. All in all an enjoyable afternoon and a terrific launch for the Guildford Book Festival.
West Wycombe cricket match (click here) Dulwich Dusters cricket match (click here) A new history of Wodehouse's beloved Dulwich College has just been published (click here) Arrow Picnic, 10 May 2008 (click here) Review of Come on Jeeves (click here)
The
Wodehouse Society Convention Every two years, the US Wodehouse Society holds a convention which this time took place in Providence, Rhode Island – partly lending its name to the theme of ‘Divine Providence’. Several UK Society members attended. Indeed two gave talks and several others contributed in different ways – along with almost two hundred other TWS members. It was a terrific weekend, full of fun and friendship and, for several of the people that came on our own Week With Wodehouse, a very happy reunion. If you think you might like to be part of the fun in 2009, you will need to join TWS and make plans for a trip to St. Paul, Minnesota.
Newport Mansions: Christine Hewitt on Friday's visit to the Stately Homes of New England (click here) Bright and breezy: Tony Ring watched Friday night's entertainment at the hotel (click here) More tea vicar?: Tim Andrew was at Saturday's day of talks (click here) At the trough: Saltatrix and Jelle Otten were at Saturday night's banquet (click here) Hilary Bruce had just enough room for a bit more brunch and betting on Sunday (click here) Society gathering and AGM, Oct 2007 - Paul Rush's report (click here) Society gathering and AGM, Oct 2007 - Andrew Woodger's report (click here) Review of By Jeeves (click here) A
Week with Wodehouse Reports (click here) Gold Bats only win the silver medal at Dulwich By Patrick Kidd The Society's cricket team lost their match against the Dulwich Dusters at PG Wodehouse's old school Dulwich College. Jeeves would have disapproved of a cricket match being completed within three hours (although his master, Bertie Wooster, would have delighted in the excellent spread laid on at half-time), but the demands of work and school curriculum meant that there was only time for a Twenty20 match when the Gold Bats played the masters of Dulwich College.
The annual fixture brings a good smattering of spectators to the pretty south London ground - where the name "Wodehouse PG" can be seen in the gold-engraved first XI for 1900 on a wall of the pavilion - but most of them come just for the tea, an obscene anthology of sandwiches, cakes, scones groaning beneath the weight of jam and cream, and at least 20 sausage rolls per person. No wonder the Gold Bats were slightly hesitant in the field as they attempted to defend a total of 114 for nine, and capitulated with five overs unbowled. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The match began with anxious looks to the heavens and muttered imprecations that the rains that had disrupted play in the tennis at Queen's that afternoon would steer well clear of Dulwich. Mr Wilcox and Mr Heard opened the batting for the Gold Bats, but were parted in the first over when the Dulwich strike bowler, Mike, uprooted Wilcox's off stump. Mike would go on to record the excellent analysis of two for five in his two overs, but the Gold Bats tucked in to the lob bowling from the other end as Heard and Savage added 21 for the second wicket. Heard became Mike's second victim after hitting some lusty blows, and although Hill made 20 and Miller 14, the Bats looked in danger of being bowled out for under 100 before the ninth-wicket pair of Lloyd and Rush put on 23 in four overs. A smallish total was made harder to defend by the unsporting way in which the Dusters came out seemingly determined to make the runs in as few overs as possible. Maybe they were just keen to get back to the bar and those left-over sausage rolls. Jackson's two overs were hit for 21 and Wilcox conceded 16, although he did pick up the wickets of both openers. Your writer, who had not batted, stemmed the tide a little, taking one for nine in two overs, and there was some excellent aggressive bowling from Heard, who took one for five but could have had more wickets if only the batsmen had been able to lay willow on the Exocets he whistled past their outside edges. The inevitable capitulation came in the 15th over and the teams decamped to the pavilion to celebrate with a few punnets of strawberries. The Gold Bats may have lost the match, but the rewarding streaks of Dulwich turf up various trouser legs suggested enthusiasm if not ability in the field. The following weekend's match against the Sherlock Holmes Society at West Wycombe fell victim to the wettest June in UK history. It won't be re-arranged. Patrick Kidd writes for The Times newspaper. His online Times blog can be found here. Savage Club meeting 13 February 2007 By Andrew Woodger An audience of around 30 devotees attended the Savage Club meeting on Tuesday 13th February 2007. Our star turn was none other than the Society's Remembrancer Mr Norman Murphy, who gave a series of readings ably supported by Michael Rush and Oliver Wise. The readings related to his 2 volume opus "A Wodehouse Handbook" (click here for further details). Savage Club meeting and AGM Tuesday 14th November 2006 By Andrew Woodger The evening's entertainment was provided by two valiant chaps who'd succeeded in adapting Plum's golfing short stories for the stage. Unfortunately, The Coming Of Gowf only had two runs - at the Old Red Lion in Islington, London in 2001 and at the Edinburgh Festival in 2005. Producer/director/adaptor Ken McClymont talked about the difficulties of trying to fit an 18-hole golf course onto a stage (19 if you count the Oldest Member's vantage point) and of finding genuine hickory-shafted clubs. Fortunately he never had to declare it unplayable and he hopes to stage the show at The Open (or the British Open as our American friends insist on calling it) at some point. Actor Wayne "Pickles" Norman was on hand at The Savage to provide excerpts and to tell us how a 21-year-old (!) manages to transform himself into the Oldest Member and test out its success by walking down through Edinburgh in character. It was a pleasure to hear how they really got into the spirit of the play.
The Annual General Meeting was held before the performance and Committee members tried to keep their reports for the year as brief as possible so as not to interrupt the flow of drink and conversation. Tony Ring formally/finally was able to stand down as Editor to Wooster Sauce and was voted back onto the Committee as a member. Former Editor of this website John Fletcher also stood down. Both were thanked for their hard work. They're being replaced by Andrew Woodger (that's me, last time I looked) as website editor and (cue fanfare) by Elin Murphy as editor of Wooster Sauce much to the dismay of her husband - the Society's Remembrancer Norman Murphy - who clearly fears a Tom & Dahlia Travers/Milady's Boudoir scenario. It's a big job for Elin so Society members need to rally round and come up with ideas and features for our magazine. Tim Andrew and Sir Edward Cazalet were both re-elected to the Committee. Membership Secretary Christine Hewitt and Treasurer Alan Wood were re-elected as officers of the Committee. Society Dinner 2006 Report and Photos (click here) Dinner photos (click here) Berkshire Pigs ... and newts! The Royal Berkshire Show, 17 September 2006 By Christine Hewitt During the period in which much attention had been lavished on London Fashion Week, Wodehouseans were instead drawn to the glorious annual pageant of pigs that can be enjoyed at the Royal Berkshire Show. There were no alarmingly skinny models on this catwalk and Kate Moss wasn't spotted in her Glastonbury Festival wellies, but there was plenty of snorting! Arriving early at the Newbury Showground I was able to stroll through the marquee and see the stars of the show having a little nap or getting outside a post-breakfast snack. Pigs of all types were resplendent in their show attire of shampooed and baby-oiled coat. This year’s competition had attracted a record entry of about 140 pigs, which had necessitated an extension to the marquee. There were also two litters of wonderful frisking Berkshire piglets to admire. As the sun smiled down from a clear blue sky and clocks pointed to 10am the Interbreed Championship group of pigs were released into the show ring for close scrutiny by judge Chris Penrice. The group featured everything from a diminutive Kune Kune from New Zealand to a magnificent Sandy & Black - a rare breed which has been brought back from the brink of extinction. With several rare breeds featured in the group, including a Berkshire, the commentator spoke eloquently of the importance of such diversity declaring “these are our heritage, ladies and gentlemen, as important as country houses”. Leaning on the rail I mused on whether we will soon be able to visit a pig farm and have a National Trust cream tea and buy some lavender linen wash. Winners were declared and the ring cleared but soon Judge Penrice was out again and PG Wodehouse Society members in the audience looked on eagerly as the cream of the Berkshire breed filed out. Winners from events throughout the United Kingdom this year, including this show’s breed group winner from the previous day, were pitted head-to-head for the title Berkshire Champion of Champions. They seemed keen: some burst through the gate and sprinted into the ring with white coated handlers in breathless pursuit. Others sashayed professionally, just one or two seemed miffed to have been hauled away from their shady straw pens. About 20 (well you try counting a milling throng of pigs when you have got up rather early on a Sunday morning!) circled round the judge. There was a spot of sniffing and digging on the perimeter, otherwise good behaviour. These supermodels not only need to have good genes and considerable beauty, they must also display the correct deportment. Maybe they should try balancing Blandings novels on their heads? Judge Chris Penrice hails from Hawkshead in the Lake District, Pigling Bland country, another famous Berkshire in literature, and he made no secret of the fact that Berkshires are his favourite breed. It took more than 30 minutes for the particularly large field of Berkshires to be judged. So many were there that the field had to be narrowed down half-way through. “I’ve never seen a better array of Berkshires anywhere” said the commentator. There was also plenty of time for the commentary department to give full information on the history of the breed and the connection with Wodehouse and the Blandings novels. Crowds were three-deep around the fence on this lovely morning. The sunshine that pleased the spectators did not, however, please the pigs. As time passed they started to became either a little tetchy, or sleepy. It’s a bit much having to walk about and have your underlines inspected when you just want to cool off in a nice muddy wallow, and there is a real danger of sunburn. One pig lay down and nibbled grass. One jumped about when the judge was looking at her then stood beautifully as soon as he had moved on. There were screams and diva tantrums over a bucket of water.
The winner (above) was a mature boar of stately carriage with a number of fancy rings in his nose and a lolling pink tongue. Our Chairman Hilary Bruce presented the sash and rosette, sponsored by the PG Wodehouse Society (UK). The sash (see below, noting the reference to sponsorship by the Society) was later seen being worn by the winner’s owner, Vicky Mills, who is Chairman of the Berkshire Breeders Society. Congratulations Vicky.
Back in the marquee we encountered Christine Coe, who spoke at our Savage Club meeting last autumn. You might have seen Christine and her Berkshires on television recently with Gordon Ramsay in ‘The F Word‘. Her champion Wilma had not won top place this year. Having risen with the larks to be groomed and fussed over, Wilma had become rather grumpy and did not show well. We could only empathise. There was a great deal else to see and do at the Royal Show. I loved the King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery gun carriage drive to music. Splendid stuff, makes one proud to be British, don’t you know. The Portsmouth Reptile and Amphibian Society had a small marquee containing snakes, big lizards and also a tank or two of newts. Overlooked in favour of the more exciting animals, the newts were surprised to find themselves suddenly at the centre of devoted attention when the Wodehouse Society members flocked to them as soon as the pig judging was over. A sort of paparazzi gathered in front of the tanks and bewildered members of the public strained to see what had caused the frenzy. There were three sorts of newt including some exciting Spanish Rib Newts which can shoot their ribs out through their sides in order to upset predators, then retrieve them without harm. For a few absorbed minutes we were all Gussie Fink-Nottle. The Royal Berkshire Show will be on 15 and 16 September 2007. The Society will again sponsor the Berkshire Champion of Champions prize on Sunday 16th so remember the date, it is a good day out! Cecil enthralls the Savage Club Tuesday 11th July 2006 By Andrew Woodger PGWS patron Jonathan Cecil was the star turn/guest of honour at the Society's summer social gathering at the National Liberal Club in London and he held the audience captive as he sung and recited songs and poems and songs which are mentioned in some of the Great Man's books (and one that isn't!) Society chairman Hilary Bruce got matters under way with a brief resume of Society activities and Things We Should Know About. This included another plea for someone to take over from Tony Ring as the editor of Wooster Sauce. Also noted was foul-mouthed celebrity chef Gordon Ramsey's new show on Channel 4. "Gordon Ramsey's F-word" tracks his progress in raising Royal Berkshire pigs in his garden. The series again provides evidence of the "Emsworth Paradox" - to wit, in order to save the Berskshire we must kill and eat them! Ramsey has been seen trying to impress on his children the point that they're not pets, they're produce. Jonathan Cecil's acting and audio-book naration skills are well-known, but the gathered throng of around 50 members were treated to his singing voice as well (you may have heard him sing before, but I hadn't). He was accompanied by pianist Stefan Bednarczyk (soon to be acting in Howard Goodall's "Two Cities" at the Salisbury Playhouse from Sept 30th 2006). Jonathan began by treading in Rudolph Valentino's footsteps with a performance of "Pale Hands I Love Beside The Shalimar" (aka The Kashmiri Lovesong) which appears in PGW's Hot Water. Next came the poem "The Shooting Of Dan McGrew" which was sourced from the short story "Jeeves & The Song Of Songs". Jonathan then sang "You Forgot To Remember" which is in PGW's Good Morning Bill. Jonathan told us that he was a Londoner and born within the sound of Bow bells before treating us to his best Cockney with "The Fireman's Song". This was quickly followed by "The Curse Of An Aching Heart" from the Eggs, Beans & Crumpets short story "All's Well For Bingo". Continuing the Berkshire theme, we finished with "Who Stole My Heart Away?". Jonathan attempted to get some audience participation by getting us to respond to his "PIG!" with a "Hoo-eey!" which would then take us into the next line a few times. While we were full of voice and willing I fear we needed more rehearsal! A sweltering performance on a swelteringly hot evening at the Savage Club (the 2005 July meeting was on an equally hot day). Inspirational and perspirational - if only there were as many electric fans as PGW fans in the room….
Jonathan Cecil (centre) in the BBC's "Gulliver In Lilliput" from 1982 Cricket: Sherlock Holmes Society force a draw againt the PGWS Gold Bats at West Wycombe 25th June 2006 (click here for report) Cricket: Gold Bats tie with the Dulwich Dusters at Dulwich College June 2006 (click here for report) Savage Club meeting, 14 February 2006 As is the tradition all good Wodehouseans raise their glasses and toast Plum on 14 February, the anniversary of the great man’s death. And when that date coincides with the quarterly meeting of members at the Savage Club the toasting can go on for quite some time. And so, this year, it did. It was a writers’ evening. First the society’s exuberant Chairman pointed out that an appointment of a new Editor of Wooster Sauce to replace the long-serving Tony Ring was still pending. And the reason it was still pending was that there been not enough of a clamour to claim the privilege of sitting in the battered but accommodating leather editorial armchair. In fact there was a complete dearth of applications. In part this may be because of the daunting job description. “A combination of Lord Tilbury and Rosie M Banks” was how the Chairman described the role. A swift glance along the bar revealed no one closely fitting the description. So the question was left hanging in the air as we moved on to the main entertainment of the evening. At the last Cheltenham Literary Festival it had been decided to argue which book might have won the Booker Prize for Fiction had there been such a thing in 1935. And as this was the year in which Blandings Castle eased its sublime way off the printing presses this was a matter of deep interest to the assembled company. To provide the inside story of the deliberations Simon Hoggart stepped forward. This man is the reason why people still try so hard to become journalists. His spread of work responsibilities was the envy of all. He has been parliamentary sketch-writer for the Guardian for 12 years. He is the lynch-pin of the Radio 4 ‘News Quiz’. He is wine-editor of the Spectator. And he writes book after book, including the delightful collection of the finest of John Prescott’s incomprehensible speeches and tangled syntax. The only tragedy is that he too bears no resemblance to the mythical combination of Tilbury and Banks. He started off by telling us that he had spent that afternoon wrestling with Wodehousean issues at the House of Commons, where the inmates had been debating whether smoking should be banned in private clubs. “What would the Drones Club have thought?”, he asked. And before a past-chairman of the Society, smouldering pipe in hand, could make a suggestion he moved swiftly on. Wodehouse, he declared, had always been “a strand in one’s life”. He told of the moment in childhood when he read his first Wodehouse work, “in absolute bliss”, and the immediate joy of realising that “there were absolutely scores more to read”. He told of his daughter’s application for a place at Oxford. On the application form she had said that she “enjoyed Shakespeare but absolutely adored Wodehouse”. Hoggart was convinced that was why she got in. He gave an example of Wodehouse’s writing and the skilful way it worked. During an altercation with an aunt over breakfast Bertie describes how “I upset the cream with an imperious gesture”. “Wodehouse takes you into Bertie’s head”, declared Hoggart. “A minor piece of slapstick takes you into the mind of Bertie”. Having thus laid out his accreditation to stand in judgement on Blandings Castle he moved onto a gripping description of the events at Cheltenham last October. To honour 70 years of Penguin Books four of the books they published in 1935 were put up for a Booker Prize for that year. The inventive shortlist consisted of Blandings Castle, Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy L Sayers, Mr Norris Changes Trains by Christopher Isherwood and A Farewell To Arms by Ernest Hemingway. Hoggart described how in his youth he had rejected the idea of reading the Isherwood book on the simple grounds that the concept of ‘Mr Norris’ and ‘Changes Trains’ sounded just about the dullest combination of topics imaginable. But at this Booker it showed strongly. Both the Dorothy Sayers and Hemingway fell by the wayside. “These days,” said Hoggart, “everyone seems to love Wodehouse and is fed up with Hemingway”. It was neck-and-neck between Wodehouse and Isherwood. Novelist Alexander McCall Smith, who had been the advocate of the Hemingway, came onside for Blandings. And then the most remarkable thing happened. Broadcaster Jim Naughtie, who was the advocate for the Isherwood, realised the game was up. Hoggart’s advocacy of Blandings had consisted largely of reading out entertaining chunks of the book. An overwhelmingly supportive audience had revealed the way the tide was flowing. Now Naughtie who, had the audience known of his membership of the PG Wodehouse Society, might have been considered a bit of a fifth columnist, happily fell in with the mood of the day. “Instead of defending the Hemingway,” said Hoggart, “he too started reading out large chunks of Blandings Castle”. The result was inevitable. “The audience voted for Blandings”. And the audience at the Savage Club concurred. A storm of applause ensued as Hoggart came to the end of his account of his popular defence of the book. And to express the Society’s gratitude the Chairman presented him with a copy of the book itself, pointing out that he undoubtedly already had a copy but not one signed to him by Wodehouse’s step-grandson. Hoggart looked suitably impressed. And as he wrote in the Guardian newspaper on the following Saturday: “I had a hugely enjoyable evening this week at the PG Wodehouse Society”. And so did we. Robert Bruce You may also be interested in following this link to a piece written by our terrific speaker that evening, Simon Hoggart, in his Guardian Diary column http://www.guardian.co.uk/Columnists/Column/0,,1712513,00.html Click here for a report on the AGM, 11 October 2005 By Jeeves, Somewhere in Berkshire Tuesday, 4th October, 2005, saw a Berkshire performance of B* J**v*s. There is already a review of the great Norwich performance duly posted (see below). And we of the Royal County hold our heads high as being the source of the Empress of Blandings and her breed. It was right to set another performance in Bracknell Forest. You have to find it first. You know it is set in a village hall, but Bracknell Forest has few villages in the Woostershire sense, and is occupied mainly by large institutions like the Road Research Laboratory and Broadmoor. The Pinewood Theatre was near both these, but the people in the houses in between had not heard of it. But we got there in time, and from then on it was terrific; better, I thought, than the Haymarket performance as I remember it, or than the CD as I replayed it when I got back. The Village Hall had all the aroma of amateur dramatics but the performers intended to enjoy themselves whether the audience did or not. At £8 for unreserved seats it was unrivalled value. Adrian McDougall was an unsurpassable Bertie (no monocle praise be, but it took time for me to adjust to his hair en brosse), He had the enthusiasm of a young Hugh Grant or a Stephen Fry. Ian Crump was immaculate as Jeeves, and the spirit of PGW was clearly communicated by the Director Julian Hirst, who also acted Sir Watkyn Bassett. He spelt it "Watkin" twice in the programme, despite boasting in his blurb "although not a paid-up member of the PG Wodehouse Society, Julian has been an 'addict' for many years". But his heart, and everybody else's, was definitely in the right place, after Jeeves had untangled them. I was aware in the final "Banjo Boy" chorus how much we owe to the musical life of New Orleans, as the Caribbean subsides. The rhythm and vivacity of the ensemble seemed to be paying tribute to their great musical tradition. John Fletcher Click here for a report on the Royal Berkshire Show, September 2005 Click here for a report on the TWS 2005 convention in Hollywood The Coming of Gowf I always have a fear when watching staged versions of the Master’s works that they will go “over the top”. The humour is in the words and situations and these should be left to stand in their own right but the danger for producers is to try and develop them almost into farce. In Edinburgh for the Festival and Tattoo, whilst I have seem some excellent productions, there has been the odd, very amateurish turkey (can you have an amateur turkey?), so it was with some trepidation I entered the bustling Gilded Balloon Teviot, a multi-event venue. After some confusion in the queue, which someone thought was the queue for the Gents (which was the next door along), we got into the auditorium, which by Festival standards was quite large (about 40 seats), and which rapidly filled. I need not have worried – the production was excellent. And once it had dawned on me that each member was playing between 2 and 4 different parts (I should have read the programme first) I sat back and laughed heartily along with the rest of the audience. The set was simple but cleverly managed and the acting was superb. Often actors disappoint through no fault of their own, not because they don’t do a good job but because they just aren’t like the vision you conjure up when you read the book. However the cast here did an excellent job. Russell Loten was a perfect Ralph Bingham, Natalie Bennett played Betty Weston perfectly, Sarah Currie alternated between Amanda Truvett and Wilberforce with consummate ease, Fiona Morrison was a perfect Mary/Mabel Somerset, and praise must go also to Justine Worstman, John Muir, Pab Roberts and Mat Urey for their wonderful portrayals. But for me, best of all was Wayne “Pickles” Norman, who was perfect as The Oldest Member – exactly as I’d imagined him. It is some years since I’ve read “Cuthbert” so I can’t guarantee that it was all exactly as the Master penned it – but it seemed close enough for me unhesitatingly to give the show a seal of approval, and judging from the laughter and applause, the rest of the audience felt exactly the same. If you’re in Edinburgh between now and 26th August, make sure you don’t miss it. David Herboldt Click here for a report on the Sherlockians match on 26 June Dulwich Match – 17th June 2005
The Gold Bats match against the Dulwich Dusters is always a grand social occasion. This year it was held on the eve of the Eton and Harrow match – and this year’s Eton and Harrow was the bicentenary of the first such match in 1805. A literary figure almost equal to Wodehouse, Lord Byron, played for Harrow in 1805. He finished on the losing side. Any Wodehousian motoring into London on the eve of the Eton and Harrow would hope to see a smattering of top hats, the traditional requirement at such a time. Sadly, any top hats in Dulwich can be expected to be swiftly lost, which the reader will recall was the experience of the Earl of Hoddesdon in Big Money. But on view at the cricket was a splendid array of other types of hat. There were ladies sporting straw hats: the best was decorated with two roses, cerise and white. There was a profusion of the red Gold Bats caps, a green waterproof (pessimistic on such a sunny day), white cloth, the Remembrancer’s jaunty panama and others. Your correspondent, who failed to break his duck in 2004, wore his Primary Club hat. And so to the cricket. The umpires, Murray Hedgcock and Geoff Hales, took the field. The Gold Bats batted first. Their openers were the “two Ws”, readily distinguishable in almost all respects from the famous “three Ws”. After four overs decent progress had been made, with Wilcox hitting fours and Wise nudging singles. Then the Dusters brought on to bowl the wily Graham Able, the Master. His first over produced two wides, a single, Wise’s first four and a slow, high full toss, a slightly flatter version of Spedegue’s dropper. Wise duly skied the ball, to be caught at deep square leg. Good hitting by Wilcox brought him to 33. At this stage the scorer was told of the rule requiring the batsman to retire at 25. This brought about a partnership between Jackson (Mike, not FS) and Chapman (Andrew, not APF). Given that the Australian tour had just started, this seemed a good omen for the Gold Bats and England. Jackson pulled the Dusters lob bowler for six. Chapman batted elegantly, bringing his 25 up with a six. Smart Dulwich catching reduced the Gold Bats to 91 for 7. Inspector Miller, the captain, steadied the ship, and he and Savage put on 21, until a mishap left them both at the bowler’s end. Chapman resumed, but was leg before without adding to his score. Wilcox came in and made another nine off the last three balls. The Gold Bats closed happily on 126 for 9 off their 20 overs. Tea followed: a gargantuan feast presided over with aplomb by Elaine Ring. The tables groaned and the players and spectators gorged on the huge variety of sandwiches, savouries and cakes. Somehow room was found for strawberries and cream, doughnuts, etc. Possibly because of tea the Dusters were able to assert their superiority when they batted. Rush’s left arm spin was able to exert some control, but apart from him, whatever the bowling changes, runs poured from the Dusters’ bats. The Master again distinguished himself and made his 25. Lasse Stack, from Essen, aged 18 and new to the game, batted like a veteran. Only three wickets were taken, all catches, the pick of which was a diving take by Miller. The Dusters won comfortably by seven wickets. Lasse Stack received the Man of the Match award. The teams repaired to the bar. It was a most enjoyable day; and hearty thanks are due to Murray Hedgcock and Geoff Hales for umpiring and to our Dulwich hosts. – Oliver Wise Gold
Bats v Dusters, 17 June 2005 The message from Captain Bob Miller was clear: “You have been invited/selected/instructed/ordered to umpire the match between The Gold Bats and the Dulwich Dusters at Dulwich College, 4.30 p.m., Friday June 17”. The precise format has eluded memory, but the import was clear. As I had missed last year’s duty as umpire against the Sherlockians (on what was clearly considered the feeble excuse that I was in Australia), I was to make up for it this season. Clothing was a problem. The Sherlockians’ game, played under the Laws applying in 1895, requires the crowning adornment of a derby bowler – one of those dignified hats seen in TV films set in the late Victorian era, plus black trousers and boots, and a white muffler, such as the working classes wore in lieu of anything so fancy as a tie. The Dulwich match being played under current Laws indicated some more modern attire. The best hat I could find a for a sunny day was a floppy bearing the logo, “Sky Sports”, which seemed less than appropriate, but had to serve. Should I or should I not wear a tie, to stress the dignity of office? And if so – which one? It had to be appropriate to the occasion – my umpire’s white coat already bore the insignia of The Wodehouse Society CC, a delightful device produced by cricket-enthused members of TWS across the water. I settled in the end on the good old MCC bacon-and-eggs stripes, on the theory that this would indicate cricketing authority at A High Level. Held up by train troubles, I arrived with only minutes to spare, to find that my co-umpire was to be an old Society cobber in Geoff Hales, who informed me he had recently completed his qualification and was now a real umpire. This was a little alarming: there is a world of difference between the proper umpire and the occasional one. But we had to present a united front, so I addressed the Dusters, who were to field first. "I should like to point out that my tie is the symbol of MCC authority, and anyone disputing my decisions will be subject to the awful majesty of Lord’s, and shall have their MCC membership application put back by five years.” It seemed a good line, but one slightly older player than the alarmingly youthful and fit majority commented quietly: “What happens if you’ve already been an MCC member for thirty years?” (More of him later). Geoff decreed that I take first over (and when a chap about the size, if certainly not the truculence, of Roderick Spode so decrees, it would be a foolish colleague who argued). The opening bowler was a slim, curly-haired youngster who looked far too youthful to be a Master – even at so progressive a school. He sent down useful left-arm medium pace, with a tendency to leave the bat quite sharply and encroach on the area of first slip rather than of the keeper. A quiet warning that I should have to call a wide if he did not pitch the ball straighter appeared to unnerve him. The unfortunate lad sent the next delivery well wide of leg-stump, bringing a quizzical look from the batsman, but no shout from the umpire: after all, I had talked him into it. And so the 20 overs got under way, and moved on, to much encouraging chatter from the Dusters: surely there was not so much onfield noise echoing round that hallowed turf a century ago when Plum represented the school? Mark Wilcox as usual was impressive as an opener: why a man of his obvious quality tends to wear a mildly puzzled look at the wicket always escapes me. Perhaps it reflects an approach similar to that recorded of the hard-hitting South African batsman Jock Cameron, said to be in two minds – not knowing whether to hit the bowler for four or for six. The Dusters followed precedent by giving each bowler just two overs, and soon enough the chap who had commented on MCC status came on with brisk off-spinners. He too believed in giving the ball width rather than air, and when a somewhat remote ball was called ”Wide”, he muttered, distinctly in the umpire’s hearing: “He could have reached that!” It was a debatable point – but when his very next ball flew off the mown surface, an undoubted wide, it did suggest distraction. There will be more of this chap yet again. Where this match went sadly astray for the visitors was that every time a Gold Bat put the ball in the air, it was caught. These Dusters picked up some impressive catches in the deep, while the uncertainty in calling for runs inevitable in a side that rarely plays together, led to two sad run-outs. Robert Bruce decided the way to beat the field was by hitting straight i.e. to an area untenanted – but he got the trajectory wrong, and despite the dramatic efforts of Bob Miller to impede the bowler sufficiently but unostentatiously, the catch was taken (just kidding, Skipper). It is always understood that the Dusters field one Australian, and the chap thus identified by teammates’ chaffing who came on to bowl at Geoff’s end, generated brisk speed from a run-up of five paces. They also introduced their lob bowler who, as usual with this type of attack, managed both to confuse and reassure the batsman – sometimes with the same ball – while leaving the wicketkeeper literally on his toes. Mark retired for his excellent 25 – the official limit – but mostly wickets went the usual way, just plain “Out”. Cheers greeted the 100-up, and the innings closed after the statutory 20 overs at 126 for 9 wickets. At this stage, success and failure alike are put aside as we line up for the superb afternoon tea prepared under the direction of Society Chairman Hilary Bruce – the Anatole of the tea-tent. So eager were players, spectators and officials alike to get to the groaning benches that the queue extended down the stairs practically out of the pavilion. And when, after what seemed a reasonable time for browsing and sluicing, there was an umpiring suggestion that play might resume, this was rejected on the spot. Eventually the masses succumbed to gentle pressure – or to be precise, they took the field in their own good time – and the Dusters batted. The umpires switched ends, which meant I had the pleasure of looking across at the college buildings – a slightly distracting spectacle, as you cannot help musing on Plum’s happy days there. The pattern of the home innings was much like that of the Gold Bats: a retirement or two, an outfield catch or two, other dismissals – but usually only after the departing batsman had crashed a boundary or boundaries. The worst part for the tiring field was that instead of playing shots towards the pavilion, the locals would insist on belting the ball into the vast expanses of the playing fields stretching in the general direction of Dulwich Village. Paul Rush seemed to get most of this retrieving, commenting ruefully that he had perhaps enjoyed more tea than was the best training for such gallops. But it was to Paul’s credit that he bowled most impressive left-arm wrist spin when his turn came, drawing approval from that same older player previously mentioned (who had been thumping the ball to much effect through the covers). “We have that pitch specially prepared to help the school leg-spinner,” he explained with a kindly smile. The leg-spinner of course is not English, but Sri Lankan. This umpire had to give his only thought-provoking decisions in this innings – firm but not overwhelming appeals for leg-before-wicket, which he rejected, happy to see no amazed, or bitter, response from the fielding side. Overs ticked by, batsmen came and went, and the runs crept up. The match situation was a little difficult to determine from the middle, as the telegraph – as we traditionalists still call the scoreboard – is not very prominent, especially to those of us whose eyesight was markedly better half a century ago. We do not let such a minor difficulty stand in the way of umpiring, of course. We recall Sir Donald Bradman who, defending the qualifications of Australian umpire Mel McInnes after a couple of controversial decisions, argued fiercely that he had been quite a good player “before his eyesight went”. Quite so. The Dulwich Aussie came in and hit a couple of fierce thumps – having told the umpire that he had never actually played any more organised form of the game than beach cricket. He also, to our infinite regret, confessed he had not heard of PG Wodehouse. As he is a gap year student, there is perhaps still time. A notable catch was made hereabouts by Captain Bob, diving at mid-off to clutch the ball inches from the ground – his accumulation from tea apparently providing that extra padding which made the difference to the comfort of his landing. Finally a burst of applause from the pavilion signified that the Dusters had won with just two balls to spare. Man of the Match was a tricky decision – but partly in the interest of European unity (much in need of a boost) and partly in recognition of a spirited performance on an alien field, it went to 18-year-old Lasse Stack. He was the Dusters’ opening left-arm bowler – who turned out to be a German student from Essen. The crowd adjourned to the upstairs bar, where according to taste drinkers crowded round on the spot to chat of past and present cricketing triumphs, or stood on the balcony and looked out over the lengthening shadows in this lovely setting. And the chap who had claimed MCC membership, questioned my call of a wide, and thumped the bowling in spirited fashion, bought me a drink, and talked of his cricketing experience before he became Master of Dulwich. Graham Able had played for some years with the famed wandering club, the Band of Brothers, he explained. It was the sort of cricketing day when we were all indeed brothers. But we did miss the charming Mrs Jackie Henderson, the Head of Italian, who has graced the field in previous games, and helped make us all brothers – and sisters. – Murray Hedgcock 12th July: Ambridge comes to the Savage Club It was between the two bombings, on 7.7 and 21.7, if that is how these things are dated, that we stiff-upper-lippers and stiff-drinkers met again at the Savage Club. It seemed a large party, as though to send a message to the bombers. We welcomed Sally Muggeridge (Malcolm's niece) from The Muggeridge Society. Our Chairman officially introduced our guest speaker as Graham Seed. She then explained to those of us who were devotees of "The Archers" we would have a frisson as soon as he opened his mouth because he is more widely known to us as Nigel Pargetter. And she gave him special thanks for coming; as it was his birthday. (Cheers.) And a drink. He explained he would read two passages from Heavy Weather, the first short, then an interlude possibly for him to have a refill. No dissent there. What is it that professional actors have which means they can read something the audience thinks it knows by heart, but after his reading they realise they didn't know it at all? We were
really in Blandings Castle. We all knew the cut and
thrust of the duel between Ronnie Fish and his mother
Lady Julia, or thought we did. I must have read it a
dozen times. We were waiting for the lines "Painted
hussies" (from Julia). As the Master showed his skill at making a non-existent verb out of a vulgar noun without offending anyone, Graham-Nigel showed us how those words really had to be spoken. The duel between them gathered strength, until Ronnie fell with ease into the trap his mother had laid for him. He says of his Sue, "Wait
till you meet her!" That takes a page of beautiful writing to sort out, and with every line Julia grinds her son down. Listening to Graham-Nigel, we missed none of Ronnie's misery. After the prolonged applause, there were two events. First Norman Murphy took us upstairs (two flights) to see the large National Liberal Club rooms, and hear him talk about their history. The second event was a birthday party for our guest speaker. Gruntled "Let's be 'aving yer", as Norwich's own Aunt Dahlia, Delia Smith, commanded after too much cooking sherry recently. Her call at Carrow Road (akin to a mastodon calling to another mastodon across the primeval East Anglian fens?) may or may not keep Norwich City Football Club in the Premiership (unconfirmed at the time of writing), but it was certainly heeded by the region's PG Wodehouse Society members. Around 40 could be found wandering around Norwich city centre trying to locate the exclusive Reeds club for the pre-performance nosebags. Closer inspection revealed it to be hidden inside a building next to the cathedral. Even closer inspection by the short-sighted would have revealed that the Rush father-and-son comedy duo had stuck a paper notice on the door bearing the PGWS legend. The Society's own Aunt Agatha – chairperson Hilary Bruce – called the troops to order and an excellent meal was followed by a march to the Maddermarket Theatre in the sunshine. Purists will always raise some objections, but as someone who's never seen By Jeeves I felt Alan Ayckbourn's script is perfectly in keeping with the spirit of the books. Performances of the two leading characters will always be compared to Fry (who failed to put in a Society appearance despite living just down the road) and Laurie or Carmichael and Hordern of course. Trevor Burton's Bertie Wooster was influenced facially by Andrew Marr, with mannerisms by Prince Charles (who also failed to turn up, despite living slightly further down the road), which worked well. David Lambert had Jeeves off pat, although in my mind Reg has always been older as well as considerably wiser. Christian de L'Argy and Evan Ryder seemed to reverse the personalities of their characters as they played Gussie Fink-Nottle and Bingo Little, respectively. Bingo was a complete nerd in lederhosen, out-Gussying Gussie I felt. Melissa Samson as Honoria Glossop had a singing voice that wouldn't have been drowned out by the Scotch express going through a tunnel, while Millie Woolsey-Brown as Madeline Basset and Andrea Daniel as Stiffy Byng both looked wonderful and would have had me stealing policemen's helmets with a single flutter of the eyelids. Trevor Markworth was perfect as the square-jawed, 10-feet-tall American Cyrus Budge III (Junior). The in-house production really went to town creating a village hall ambience at the intimate venue. Posters stated Bertie would be playing the banjo later, while the cast wandered around recreating village small talk – and passing trays of cakes around the audience during the interval. All in all a most enjoyable Society outing and I'm sure everyone would like to thank Paul Rush again for organising it. Without the aid of a manservant. by Andrew Woodger Click here for a report on the Exit Theatre Company's recent production of Ring for Jeeves. Owen
at the Savage On a chill February evening the traditional gathering of members took place at the Savage Club. At this time of year the bonhomie is exuberant, as if to banish the feeling of gloom at the ebbtide of the year outside. And the timing was excellent, just the day after the 30th anniversary of Plum’s death. This was marked by a reading by membership secretary, Christine Hewitt, of an article which had appeared the previous day in The Times. This thunderous piece had argued, with some force and eloquence, that the 14th of February should be wrested away from the wretched St Valentine. Instead the day should be designated ‘St Gussie’s’. The final paragraph of the piece read: ‘We ought to honour the achievements of this most romantic of writers today. A tradition should be started for lovers to give each other a Blandings or a Jeeves book every February 14th. And perhaps the day should be changed from St Valentine’s to St Gussie’s’. After this the Society’s Remembrancer, Colonel NTP Murphy, the man who strives at all times to impart more information in 30 seconds than many encyclopaedias in several thousand pages, had an announcement to make. He had noticed that his successor as Chairman, Hilary Bruce, had no formal object to knock upon a table to bring the room to its senses. This seemed to him logical as in his day he had simply produced one of his many pipes and given the nearest mahogany surface an admonitory whack with it. Members then stood to attention until told to stand at ease. But Hilary, while master of many skills and talents, does not smoke a pipe. Norman thus had engraved her initials on one of his pipes and duly presented it to her for future use in bringing the society’s members to their full concentrated attention. Having done this he then seized the moment to provide us with the results of some serendipitous research which he had undertaken only the day before. Knowing from his researches that 100 years ago to the day the young Plum would have been working at The Globe he had leafed through the issue of Punch which would have come out on that day and which Plum undoubtedly would have glanced through to pick up any good ideas flitting across the pages. It is not often that you see the lower jaw of NTP Murphy drop down in amazement. But it did when he reached page 109 of the Punch dated 15th February 1905. For there he found a poem written by one AA Sykes which he now asked committee member Oliver Wise to read to the assembled company. It came under the title ‘Psnobisme?’ and had the opening explanatory paragraph: ‘It is stated that a gentleman of the name of Smith proposes, by way of differentiation, to adopt the signature of “Psmith”, on the analogy of the mute p in psalm’. ‘HEAR,
all ye countless Smiths and Schmidts, Norman’s conclusion was unassailable. We were here in the Savage Club to celebrate the exact centenary of the day when Plum had the idea for the name of one of the most enduring characters in his canon – Psmith. As is usual when Wodehouseans are gathered together to hear a Murphy discovery the entourage was first astonished and then cheered him to the rafters before returning to the bar for a refilled glass with which to toast him. Having previously heard the arguments for the 14th February to be renamed St Gussie’s it was suggested that the 15th February should be henceforth referred to as The Day of Psmith, if not the Feast of Psmith. Before the gathering had time to gather their sang-froid and gird it safely around themselves once more it was time for the evening’s entertainment. Christopher Owen has built a considerable reputation by touring his one-man show based on the Blandings stories around the country. And here he was at the Savage to give us a flavour. Clad in the perfect tweedy suit he ranged amongst us as Lord Emsworth regaling us of the troubles of pigmen, dastardly local rivals, the glory of the Empress and the problems of all the things which you wished to remember but seem to become erased from the mind after only the shortest of snoozes after lunch in the Senior Conservative Club. Pig-calls were essayed, though not the most famous one. We were all transported down to Shropshire without having to change at Swindon. It was glorious and, like the Ancient Mariner, he held his audience as he walked around the bar seeming to tell the tales to each and every one of us personally. Then he gave us two of the Wodehouse songs, sung in a perfect and mellifluous tenor and accompanied by a very deft David Wyks, on the piano. This was almost mysterious, as the piano in the Savage Club is tucked away in a small niche behind the bar. Without a good view the music appeared to many to be coming from the beer store. The songs told us first that it was a hard, hard, hard, hard world for a man. And his performance concluded with the song from Oh Joy! – 'Nesting Time in Tooting'. So truly moving was this rendition that he was cheered into an encore. We were all transported into the sweet innocent and lovely world of Wodehouse, which surely is the point. Move over St Valentine! Jonathan Cecil: Friday, 18 February 2005 For the second time in four days, Wodehouseans gathered at the Savage Club, this time to attend a Savage event: Jonathan Cecil and his wife Anna Sharkey presenting their delightful ‘Plum Sauce’ show. But there was a hitch. When the chairman called us to order at 7:15, it was to impart the unfortunate news that Ms Sharkey was unable to attend, and therefore Mr Cecil would give a monologue, accompanied by a pianist. Jonathan began with a gracious tribute to our Society and said how proud he was of having read 168 hours of Wodehouse for talking books and tapes. On the other hand, he told us that he had never played Hamlet – and entertained doubts that he ever would. He had never won an Oscar either, but he was proud of winning one award, even though he had not known he had been nominated. To his great surprise, he was informed that he had won an Earphones Award in America for the Wodehouse tapes he had recorded. He described his pride in this achievement and his eager wait for the trophy. Would it be like an Oscar? Would it be like the earphones telephone operators wore in those old 1930s films? Perhaps they would be gold-plated? Surely at least they would be gilded? Perhaps they came on a stand? But, as he concluded lugubriously, since the award had been made in 1996 and he'd received nothing so far, his hopes of a tangible token of the honour were beginning to fade. Jonathan made the point that the tapes he recorded still bring him fan mail, though he wondered if there was some deep significance in the fact that an alarming proportion came from prisons! Still, as he pointed out, it was ‘nice to have a captive audience’. He then went on to talk about his career, having become stage-struck as a boy when he saw his first pantomime in Oxford just after the war. Managing to overcome parental opposition to his plans, he went through the then-customary training in repertory up and down the country, during which he met and married his wife Anna. He had been lucky enough to appear with famous names, including a part in a play written by Peter Ustinov, starring Robert Morley and directed by no less a luminary as John Gielgud. It didn't work until Robert Morley decided to ‘improve’ the script with an odd interjection of his own. Jonathan made it clear how lucky he had been to work alongside such a variety of people ranging from Beryl Reid, Roy Hudd, and Jimmy Edwards on the variety side to Alan Bennett, John LeMesurier, and Arthur Lowe in the theatre and television. We heard anecdotes that made us laugh, superb impressions that brought back immediately the flavour of the subject, and a recollection of that long-lived comedian, Cyril Fletcher, with an ‘Odd Ode’, written by Jonathan himself, rendered with every nuance and twist of Cyril Fletcher’s voice. It was a splendid monologue, even though Anna Sharkey’s absence meant it couldn't be Wodehouse. Jonathan’s performance was followed by a buffet dinner, of which the taste buds thoroughly approved, and pleasant chatter with others at the table, which included a new Society member originally from Bulgaria. The evening saw another phenomenon of which members of the Society may be unaware: Whenever and in whatever circumstances two or more members of the Society’s committee meet, an ad hoc subcommittee meeting will immediately be convened. This constant attention to the Society’s interests was exemplified on Friday at the Savage, where the attendance of the membership secretary and treasurer at once led to papers, letters, and cheques being exchanged across the table, while your correspondents were co-opted to trade US-UK cheques and Wodehousean addresses. Your Committee never rests. In all, a very enjoyable – and productive – evening! – Legatus and Saltatrix Click here for a report on the Savage Club meeting on 9 November 2004. |
