I love Jeeves.
It's the way he cuts the crusts off the cucumber sandwiches.
I was reading
The Code of the Woosters on the train on the way home from work one frigid February day -- I was coming home from the Bronx, which is a long haul to Brooklyn. I was really tired as I'd gotten up at 5am on little sleep, and I was very hungry, as I'd not had any food since my breakfast latte several hours earlier. I fell asleep reading and dreamed I was at an English garden party, all summer and fragrance, and there was a tempting tray of little cucumber sandwiches glittering in the sun in front of me. I took one. The bread was white and soft and the cucumber was the image of crisp freshness. I raised it to my mouth, admiring the lightness of it, the lack of crusts. My lips were wet with anticipation. And just as I was ready to bite into the little square of heaven, I woke to the sad realization that I was sitting on a crowded, fluorescent-lit 6 train, my arm stretched out in front of me, and my mouth open, awaiting the non-existent cucumber sandwich of my dreams.