Writings in the Sand

Coffee, Christie and Curmudgeonly Thoughts

I find it very disappointing each day when I gulp down a cup of black coffee so I may bring my consciousness into focus, only to realize that the world has gone mad and a clearer understanding of this is not going to improve my morning.

Time for a second cup,

I discovered this morning that Agatha Christie was my sixth cousin. I really had no idea. We share a fifth great grandmother. I remember when I bought my very first Agatha Christie book. I got a couple of them at a church rummage sale. One of them was "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd". I am not sure how old I was, probably eleven or twelve, that kind of age (I now imagine David Mitchell quipping “a numerical age,that kind, rather than iron or bronze”). I had read all the books on our shelves at home and was thrilled to discover some new characters that I could obsess over. At that time I was more of a Miss Marple fan and I didn't really like the fussy little Belgian detective. But in later years, David Suchet changed my mind about him with his brilliant portrayal in the television series "Poirot".

I am a bit picky about my choice of Jane Marple portrayals, and though I love both Julia McKenzie and Geraldine McEwan, I am most definitely a Joan Hickson’s Marple fan. She’s so right for the part in every way. Besides, I really dislike the updating that is done on the stories to make all the situations and characters seem more modern. I want the stories just as Christie wrote them. When you’re dead, they’re likely to do anything to your writing and you can't stop them.

Thank goodness, I am in no danger of being published.

Well, that’s enough blog for today.