And no, it wasn't an itch in the nether regions.
I nipped over to the Wodehouse Exhibition at Heywood Hill Books in Mayfair yesterday. Fascinating stuff there, and tidbits of information that had previously eluded me. The curator was around, genially pointing out objects of interest in a posh accent. Did you know, he said, that Wodehouse started writing at the age of five? By the time he was seven, he had written this:
I nipped over to the Wodehouse Exhibition at Heywood Hill Books in Mayfair yesterday. Fascinating stuff there, and tidbits of information that had previously eluded me. The curator was around, genially pointing out objects of interest in a posh accent. Did you know, he said, that Wodehouse started writing at the age of five? By the time he was seven, he had written this:
About five years ago there was a thrush, who built her nest in a Poplar tree, and sang so beautifully that all the worms came up from their holes, and the ants laid down their burdens, and the crickets stopped their mirth, and the moths settled all in a row near her; she sang a song as if she were in heaven - going up higher and higher as she sang.
At last the song was done and the bird came down panting. "Thank you," said all the creatures. Now my story is ended.
2 comments:
Hi, My name is mahesh mahalingam. stumbled across your blog as i was trying to see what old friends were up to. i must have been two years your senior at Kathmandu. you have an interesting blog.
mahesh
hi, thanks for stopping by. unfortunately, i didn't know many of my seniors. i recall ravi chandran and rohit vig, both a year ahead.
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