P.G. Wodehouse fans are celebrating the wonderful news from Westminster Abbey, where a memorial stone in Poet’s Corner has been dedicated to the beloved author.
You can read more about it here:
- Westminster Abbey Honours P G Wodehouse (Westminster Abbey)
- PG Wodehouse has plum spot in Westminster Abbey (Patrick Kidd, The Times)
- PG Wodehouse commemorated with Westminster Abbey plaque (Archie Hall, The Financial Times)
- PG Wodehouse – the return of the Master (Harry Mount, The Oldie)
- PG Wodehouse to be commemorated by Westminster Abbey (Press Release from The P G Wodehouse Society UK)
- Wodehouse memorial dedicated in Westminster Abbey (Jeffrey Manley, The Evelyn Waugh Society)
Congratulations to everyone involved in making this tribute to Wodehouse possible. I’d love to hear your news and reports of the day.
In the meantime, it seems fitting to close with a dash of Wodehouse.
Living in the country had given Augustine Mulliner the excellent habit of going early to bed. He had a sermon to compose on the morrow, and in order to be fresh and at his best in the morning he retired shortly before eleven. And, as he had anticipated an unbroken eight hours of refreshing sleep, it was with no little annoyance that he became aware, towards midnight, of a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. Opening his eyes, he found that the light had been switched on and that the Bishop of Stortford was standing at his bedside.
‘Hullo!’ said Augustine. Anything wrong?’
The Bishop smiled genially, and hummed a bar or two of the hymn for those of riper years at sea. He was plainly in excellent spirits.
‘Nothing, my dear fellow,’ he replied. ‘In fact, very much the reverse. How are you, Mulliner?’
‘I feel fine, Bish.’
‘I’ll bet you two chasubles to a hassock you don’t feel as fine as I do,’ said the Bishop. ‘It must be something in the air of this place. I haven’t felt like this since Boat Race Night of the year 1893. Wow!’ he continued. ‘Whoopee! How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel! Numbers, 44, 5.’
And, gripping the rail of the bed, he endeavoured to balance himself on his hands with his feet in the air.
‘Gala Night’ in Mulliner Nights