If there’s one thing I like, it’s a quiet life.
I’m not one of those fellows who get all restless and depressed if things aren’t happening to them all the time. You can’t make it too placid for me.
Give me regular meals, a good show with decent music every now and then, and one or two pals to totter round with, and I ask no more.
That is why the jar, when it came, was such a particularly nasty jar. I mean, I’d returned from Roville with a sort of feeling that from now on nothing could occur to upset me. Aunt Agatha, I imagined, would require at least a year to recover from the Hemmingway affair: and apart from Aunt Agatha there isn’t anybody who really does much in the way of harrying me. It seemed to me that the skies were blue, so to speak, and no clouds in sight.
I little thought. … Well, look here, what happened was this, and I ask you if it wasn’t enough to rattle anybody.
Once a year Jeeves takes a couple of weeks’ vacation and biffs off to the sea or somewhere to restore his tissues.
Pretty rotten for me, of course, while he’s away.
But it has to be stuck, so I stick it; and I must admit that he usually manages to get hold of a fairly decent fellow to look after me in his absence.
Well, the time had come round again, and Jeeves was in the kitchen giving the understudy a