The best thing about Agatha Christie is that when you become a rabid fan (as I am) and have read every book (as I have) and then you don't read a particular title for a year or so, there is a very good chance that, when you pick this particular title up again, you've forgotten the whole plot. I almost never forget books, and this happens to me all the time with Agatha Christie. Usually I remember who gets murdered and who did it and who pairs off and all that - but the stops along the way? Not a clue. (Ha ha! Bad joke!)
It happened with this one. I expected it to be about Bundle, but I think I had it mixed up with The Seven Dials Mystery. I opened it up and had no idea what was going on. It was lovely.
I would like to be fascinating like Virginia Revel. And as that ranks up there on the possibility scale with trading bodies with Keira Knightley, I will also say that I would love to have Bundle's wonderful turn of phrase. And also a nickname. Not Bundle - but so many Agatha Christie women have nicknames. Tuppence, for heaven's sake. Socks. Egg. How do they acquire these? I have always wanted a nickname, but I think I'm a bit too old to pull a C.S. Lewis and inform my family that they're to call me Jack from now on. A pity.
Anyways, this book is fun. Princes and crown jewels and wonderful one-liners. I do so love Lord Caterham. I made my own papa read a bit of Lord Caterham's talking this afternoon, laughing my head off all the while. My poor dad. It wasn't even funny out of context. I just can't help myself sometimes. I've got the SHARE virus.
CONCLUSION: Classic Christie. Gosh, the woman can entertain. In my book, there really is no better way to spend an afternoon than at a country house party gone murderous.