Agatha Christie began to write this book in April 1950; she finished it some fifteen years later when she was 75 years old.
Showing posts with label An Autobiography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label An Autobiography. Show all posts
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Foreword
Posted by Unknown on 8:10 PM
NIMRUD, IRAQ. 2 April 1950.
Nimrud is the modern name of the ancient city of Calah, the military capital of the Assyrians. Our Expedition House is built of mud-brick.
PART I. Ashfield
Posted by Unknown on 8:09 PM
O! ma chère maison; mon nid, mon gîte
Le passé Vhabite…O ma chère maison
I
One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is to have a happy childhood. I had a very happy childhood.
PART II. ‘Girls and boys come out to play’
Posted by Unknown on 8:06 PM
I
Until one looks back on one’s own past one fails to realise what an extraordinary view of the world a child has. The angle of vision is entirely different to that of the adult, everything is out of proportion.
PART III. Growing up
Posted by Unknown on 8:05 PM
I
Life took on a completely different complexion after my father’s death. I stepped out of my child’s world, a world of security and thoughtlessness, to enter the fringes of the world of reality.
PART IV. Flirting, courting, banns up, marriage
Posted by Unknown on 8:03 PM
(Popular Victorian Game)
I
Soon after I came home from Paris, my mother had a serious illness. In the usual manner of doctors, it was diagnosed as appendicitis, paratyphoid, gallstones and a few more things.
PART V. War
Posted by Unknown on 8:01 PM
I
England was at war. It had come.
I can hardly express the difference between our feelings then and now. Now we might be horrified, perhaps surprised, but not really astonished that war should come, because we are all conscious that war does come;
PART VI. Round the world
Posted by Unknown on 8:00 PM
I
Going round the world was one of the most exciting things that ever happened to me. It was so exciting that I could not believe it was true.
PART VII. The land of lost content
Posted by Unknown on 7:55 PM
I
While we were looking for our country cottage, bad news came from Africa of my brother Monty.
PART VIII. Second spring
Posted by Unknown on 7:52 PM
I
Trains have always been one of my favourite things. It is sad nowadays that one no longer has engines that seem to be one’s personal friends.
PART IX. Life with max
Posted by Unknown on 7:51 PM
I
Our honeymoon took us to Dubrovnik, and from there to Split. Split I have never forgotten.
PART X. The second war
Posted by Unknown on 7:49 PM
I
And so we were back again in wartime. It was not a war like the last one. One expected it to be, because I suppose one always does expect things to repeat themselves.
PART XI. autumn
Posted by Unknown on 7:48 PM
I
I am writing this in 1965. And that was in 1945. Twenty years, but it does not seem like twenty years.
Epilogue
Posted by Unknown on 7:46 PM
The longing to write my autobiography assailed me suddenly at my ‘house’ at Nimrud, Beit Agatha.
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PREFACE