
It was a totally filthy day in July. Rain came down in torrents. But, we had booked our parking space in advance, and there was very little that was going to keep us from visiting the country retreat of Dame Agatha Christie, Greenway.
Greenway is not a stately home, exactly, but more a sort of lodge overlooking the Dart River, which flows down out of mystical, sometimes terrifying, Dartmoor. It is not too far from Christie’s birthplace in Torquay, where, as it happens, my husband was also born, if a bit later and with not much talent for penning novels about little Belgian detectives.
While parking is at a premium at Greenway, there’s a reason for it; the National Trust did not want to disturb the grounds any more than necessary so that visitors would get a true glimpse of what life was like for world-famous writers of a certain era. One can also get to the house by ferry from Dartmouth (home of Britain’s Royal Naval College), but then there’s a cliffside of stairs to contend with.
The house itself is not grand; it is comfortable. Some of Sir Max Mallowan’s hats are still on a rack where he left them. Mallowan was Christie’s second husband, an archaeologist. It is interesting, and not really macabre, that a tour guide willingly points out the very bed in which Sir Max breathed his last, a little bed next to the main one in an ordinary bedroom suite.
There are, of course, first editions of all Christie’s books on display, behind glass of course.
But there is a major treat to be had if one books ahead; the National Trust has created two self-catering holiday cottages on the grounds so that visitors can, in some small way, experience this magical spot as Christie did.
Next year, for sure!