P.G. Wodehouse on a worry-free life, in The Paris Review (Winter, 1975):
INTERVIEWER: There must have been some bad times for you, even so.
WODEHOUSE: Do you know, I don’t think I’ve had any really bad times. I disliked the bank I had to work in when I was young very much my first month or so. But once I got used to it, I became very fond of it.
INTERVIEWER: How about the war years, particularly the year in the German internment camp? That must have been pretty bad.
WODEHOUSE: I don’t know. Looking back to it, it wasn’t at all unpleasant. Everybody seems to think a German internment camp must be a sort of torture chamber. It was really perfectly normal and ordinary. The camp had an extraordinarily nice commander, and we did all sorts of things, you know. We played cricket, that sort of thing. Of course, I was writing all the time. Most writers would have gotten fifty novels out of the experience—the men they met there—but I have never written a word about it, except those broadcasts.
INTERVIEWER: It sounds as if you’ve never had any worries at all.
WODEHOUSE: I’m rather blessed in a way. I really don’t worry about anything much. I can adjust myself to things pretty well.