If the bullet that killed the Colonel doesn't match Redding's gun, I'll eat my handcuffs.

February 4th, 2013

Over these winter weekends, rather than venture out or do anything virtuous, my boyfriend and I have taken to watching Agatha Christie’s Marple during the afternoons. Being feature length and being the later part of the afternoon I’m not sure either one of us has stayed awake during an entire episode, rather we tag in and out as he or I nod off for half an hour or so and then catch the other one up once rested, not once have we guessed whodunnit. We tried Poirot but both of us feel asleep instantly and for two full hours. No offence intended Monsieur Poirot we obviously needed the rest!

I am reminded of this as I spent some of this morning leafing through one of my most recent (well, December) book purchases, Barbara Jones’s 1974, Grottoes & Follies. What better place to find a murdered body half covered with ivy in a Marple murder mystery than in a Grotto? I dream of having a Grotto or Folly of my own to stash bodies in one day. I could say I nearly have one, having commissioned artist Ed Kluz to build Winston the Tortiose a rather grand house, but it’s a house. Perhaps we’ll have to think about adding something to the grounds once its complete and we’ve both had a good look through Grottoes & Follies together….. once I send him some rather crucial measurements I just remembered now!

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