It is well known in the Wooster circles that Bertie Wooster is not much of a morning person. It is also known that this is not a reality he had chosen for himself. After all, what is a chap to do when surrounded by the blokes from The Drones Club. The wee hours of the morning seem to come rather quickly particularly when you are at a Pongo Twistleton party.
You may be confused. I was supposed to pen down comments on this particular photograph. It is going to appear in an edition of some aviation thingummy and subsequently in Aunt Dahlia’s Milady’s Boudoir Magazine. As to why it should be this photograph, I must point you in the direction of Jeeves. He usually has all the answers. I digress.
Given that it was also morning when this picture was taken, it should be no surprise that I was feeling less than eager to gamble on my very life. It took several restoratives from Jeeves and a full plate of eggs and b. to pull me out of the daze that I was in before the flight. As I chomped out every moody forkful, I reminded myself that one should meet the maker on a full stomach.
Bobbie, of course, was the very picture of enthusiasm. She often is when she is about to test unreliable machinery at great speed. This one also had the prospects of being suspended in the air. Several thousands of feet.
I suppose people find some humour in flying around like a bird. They forget that the human anatomy is not designed to make any sort of landing. In a blasted machine or otherwise.
It had occurred to me that Bobbie might have conspired with Sir Shash or Bingo Little or Tuppy Glossop or any of the other fatheads to get me into that infernal machine and give me a good old scare. You can bet that the day I find out if any wagers were placed, I shall ask for a fair share. Bertie Wooster, when pushed against the wall, can be the consummate man of business.
I can only describe in brief as to what transpired. Bobbie was the pilot. I was truly proud of her. The scenery of the Serengeti and the events of the Great Migration can only be described as miracles. I admired these miracles for several minutes. Then, I may have surrendered to prayer and to sleep. The picture was taken after we landed. I looked happy. Mostly because I understood the meaning of that old advice – ‘Joy cometh in the morning.’
-Bertram Wilberforce Wooster
Leave a Reply