What A Lovely Week It’s Been!

Early last week, my old friend, Agatha, grabbed me by the hand said: “Let’s go.  Let’s hop on The Blue Train out of Paris and we’ll be at the Riviera in no time at all.”

“Pack your bags,” she said.  “There’s no time to waste. I’ve reserved compartments for each of us.  We’ll sup in style in the dining car, we’ll sleep to the lull of the wheels on the rails and, best of all, there will be a murder.”

There’s no need to worry, of course, she added.  Monsieur Hercule Poirot will be there, as promised, and as he is quick to remind us, he’s always the first to solve the mystery and apprehend the perp.

How could I say no to such a proposition?

And so, just like that, I was curled up with a reprint of one of my favorite mystery books of all time.  And there I stayed until the satisfying end.

And, oh, the lovely language.  The lack of profanity.  The attention to detail.  The subtle character development.  And, yes, the murder.

Agatha Christie was my mainstay way back when.  I relied on her to introduce me to new worlds and new friends.  They never disappointed.  Re-reading Agatha this week reminded me of her consistent and delightful ability to tell a good tale.