I eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mrs D didn't have any children, who was he? a love child set to upset life at the manor by revealing himself? a con man?
As it turns out he is the son of the other Mrs D
and this is not 1952
and this is not St. Mary Mead
and I should probably stop wearing all the tweed
5 comments:
Divine Amaryllis.
No! MORE tweed and more fighting crime!
I also binged on Agatha Christie over Christmas. Poirot only, not a Marple fan.
Can't think where you acquired your enquiring mind from? You will be scouring the internets before you know it. Also "I might like some of those" xxx
Funny, I was about to write how divine those amaryllis are. Someone beat me to it. I am trying to hatch a scheme to fill a greenhouse with fancy amaryllis, but it's well below freezing here, will be until March, and our shop isn't even open until April. Sigh. Reading your blog, Miss P, has warmed us up a bit.
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