P.D. James was the Queen Mother of crime fiction. Her career as a writer stretched over half a century, and her death at the age of 94 deprives the country of an author who was cherished in person as well as for her books.
She was probably best known for her crisply-written and elegantly plotted series about the poet-policeman Adam Dalgliesh. Among other things, however, she was also an occasional contributor to the Spectator, which sometimes showed an unexpected side to her.
An early diary piece recalls her attempt to learn to drive in Dublin in the 1980s. The caretaker at her block of flats took one look at her Ford Fiesta and asked if she would like some holy water to sprinkle over it.
‘I said I would be grateful for any aid which might preserve me from the terrors of the Dublin streets where a red light seemed to be regarded more as a friendly warning than a prohibition… the Holy Water was produced and proved extremely efficacious.’
In a later item, she discussed the errors in her own books.
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