Ellen and I grew up on Poirot and Miss Marple, and my first published novels were mysteries, so we decided to drop in on Agatha Christie at her Devon home. A lovely old house called Greenway. Broody skies seemed appropriate for a weekend gathering of suspicious guests . . .
Lots of Christie memorabilia inside. I enjoyed this portrait of young Agatha, looking sulky. Or maybe just feeling exhausted at the thought of the 66 novels and 13 volumes of short stories she had to write?
I liked her toilet too. Agatha’s ebony loo! Her second husband was an archeologist whom she accompanied on digs in Egypt. Apparently this was the one item she absolutely HAD to take along.
