Allow me to explain. After a particularly appealing season of Marple (see how I connect the dots there? It’s like magic) I was once again blathering to George about how, but for the shockingly regular murders (super consistent like; primarily occurring during Sunday nights in correspondence with PBS’s Masterpiece Mysteries), the English countryside sure seemed like a place I’d like to spend some time. As is usually the case, while I assumed he was ignoring my ramblings, George was actually Googling Things That Would Make Me Shut Up, in this instance a lovely historic hotel in Devon where Christie had spent some of her time. We’d been talking about traveling back to England that year anyway, so why not take a side trip and get it out of my system?
Torquay is one of the prettiest places we’ve seen, complete with a Victorian sea front promenade, many a quaint and adorable fish and chip (and fudge!) shop, a local theatre, a bowling green, an ancient abbey (with a Potent Plants Garden dedicated to the many poisonous creations Christie used to kill off her literary victims. Tasty!), and even an estate dating from the 10th century, which is open for exploring and, of course, dreamy Devon cream teas. All that to say, it would be well worth going to Torquay even if one wasn’t obsessed with Dame Agatha. Which I am. So: