Those little grey cells...

Of late, I've become besotted with Hercule Poirot (Ercule Poiho) and watch almost an episode a day on YouTube.

As each melodious episode commenced, I re-visited my childhood with the series montage - triangles fading into Poirot's face and the lilt of the saxophone brought back Sunday mid-mornings and late brunches when my parents used to watch Poirot on DD and I'd lurk around- not understanding anything but being intrigued by this odd penguin-type man.

Decades later, I'm still enthralled by him.

Played to perfection by David Suchet- accompanied by Captain Hastings in his sing-song soothing British accent and the silently efficient Ms Lemon, I watch each episode with great enthusiasm. I also remember some of the Agatha Christie books I've read in a decade so long ago...

I love the way he wears his napkin tucked into his collar and the delicate way he dabs at his lips after eating or drinking. His signature lemon tea (tisanè) with three sugar cubes - in a tall glass with a steel holder. His swan/ peacock headed walking stick and his impeccably matching gloves and hat. Plus the delightful accent and the way he smiles, like a regular imp, with his moustache curling up and small eyes twinkling with the mischief of a thousand stars.

The London scene- newly invented clanky automobiles, beautifully coiffured ladies, creaking wooden staircases... Ah the aura of a golden time!

Of course I try to second-guess him but am not successful all the time.

It's much better than just reading his adventures- the moving picture stays with you so long!

Image courtesy: Wikipedia