Full Moon still shines brightly

Why is it that in my fifties, I am still enamoured of a friend I made when I was twelve? This friend created a beautiful and innocent world, weaving complicated stories with zany characters all engrossed in hare-brained schemes to get out of sticky situations. Their troubles, their adventures and their lives are all mine, as I immerse myself in their stories, woven in masterful and witty prose.

It is not possible to read a single page of any of PG Wodehouse's works without a smile or a giggle. Some sentences deserve a second and third perusal, so beautifully they have been penned. For instance, Lord Emsworth, musing on his feckless younger son — unlike the male codfish, which, suddenly finding itself the parent of three million, five hundred thousand little codfish, cheerfully resolves to love them all, the British aristocracy is apt to look with a jaundiced eye at its younger sons.

Out of all his creations, I have a soft spot for the Blandings novels. Among them, Full Moon has all the Wodehousian magic to keep you giggling and chuckling from beginning to end. My personal favourites are the woollen-headed peer, Lord Emsworth, and his prize sow, the Empress of Blandings (twice consecutive winner in the Fat Pigs class at the Shropshire Agricultural Show, "a thing no pig has ever done before"). Lord Emsworth loves his pig so much that one can often find him hanging over the railings of her sty in the middle of the night, listening to her.

And the pig "wasn't singing or reciting Gunga din" but just breathing! Another lovable character is Emsworth's younger son, Freddie, "who had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat but certainly no more". A formidable aunt, an indulgent uncle, an imposing butler, an impecunious suitor, pretty damsels in distress and a stolen diamond necklace, all contribute to making it one of Wodehouse's most hilarious and memorable works.

In Blandings novels, no mention is made of the character of Lady Emsworth, who has passed away but Emsworth's sisters are a formidable lot. In Full Moon, his sister, Lady Hermione Wedge, apparently looks like a cook. This itself makes me smile. How can anyone look "like a cook"? Throughout Full Moon she is described as "looking like a cook well satisfied with her latest souffle", or "looking like a cook who smells something burning" or "looking like a cook about to give notice on the evening of the big dinner party" and "looked like a cook who has discovered what it was that was burning." Hilarious!

Seventy-four years (or 888 moons) after it was first published, Full Moon still shines brightly and continues to lighten my mood and clear my blues with every perusal.