Jessica Fletcher. English teacher. Bestselling author of mystery novels. Momentary Congresswoman. And detective extraordinaire.
Even the Guinness World Records named her the most prolific amateur sleuth, now if that isn’t a genuine acknowledgement of your abilities then I don’t know what is.
Gentle whodunnits
My mother loved Jessica’s adventures. Gentle whodunnits with no gruesome, graphic sights or details. Unlike trench-coated Columbo, another favourite of hers, Jessica never revealed who the killer was until the very last gasp.
All the clues were there if you were sharp enough to spot them and not fall for red herrings.
Columbo always knew from the off and chipped away until you almost sympathised for the murderer being pursued by him.
Beloved Jessica was seemingly adored by all, a childless widow from the offset.
She lived in Cabot Cove, with another 3000+ residents, Mum and I were always confused why she stayed.
With the town sheriff remarking there were five murders in his first year there, it surely had to have one of the highest murder rates even for the USA?
A celebrated sleuth
Jessica was invited to travel round the world; she even shared a crossover case with Magnum P.I in Hawaii once. Every detective’s dream right there.
Some poor sod was inevitably killed immediately after her arrival with her host, friend, relative often being unwittingly arrested.
Her own niece was accused of murder at least three times. She even managed to solve a murder over the phone once. Thank goodness she was there to gently assist the ineffectual local law enforcement officers. Thank you Jessica! Cue the final shot of Ms Fletcher smiling to camera to reassure us all, the world is once again a safe place.
Miss Price of Pepperinge Eye
If Jessica was one of my mum’s favourites, the reclusive, eccentric Miss Price of Pepperinge Eye, Dorset, was one of mine.
Guilted into housing three London evacuees, you can only imagine their joy at discovering they were living with a trainee witch, using her powers against the Nazis.
Fooled and disappointed by the dastardly fraud, Professor Browne, she didn’t give up an,d after a magic journey thanks to the almighty power of a bed knob, they managed to, almost singlehandedly, save Britain. Using enchanted suits of armour.
Remember this was the 1970s, the futuristic, thrilling, use of film mixed with cartoon was mesmerizing to a tiny girl (me) and I loved every moment of it. The magic. The suspense. The drama. The intertwined love story and gloriously happy ending.
Who knew if you blended Jessica Fletcher and Miss Price together you would get an enchanted teapot employed as the head housekeeper of a spellbound Beast’s Castle?
I feel Miss Price who, remember, hates shoddy work, and Mrs Potts would have been great friends in adjoining, enchanted worlds.
Less absent-minded and forgetful than Miss Price, our matronly Mrs Potts ran a tight ship leading by example with her dislike of aggressive and ill-mannered behaviour.
Angela Lansbury in common
All of these fabulous, fictional characters, of course, have the magnificent Angela Lansbury in common. Sorry, the fabulous Dame Angela Lansbury. I shamefully know very little of her career other than these three favourites.
She achieved accolades in abundance and is the subject of three biographies. I didn’t even know she’d been born in London, wrongly assuming she was an American donning an English accent.
Although I knew little about Dame Angela I was still saddened by her death.
Search for ‘fabulous’…
Bedknobs and Broomsticks was my generation’s Harry Potter. Murder, She Wrote gave my mum and I some fun competition trying to work out who the dastardly murderous fiend was (while rather relieved we didn’t know Mrs Fletcher in real life).
Without even realising, Angela Lansbury is one of my favourite memes. Such a thoroughly modern thing and I hope she knew her career, spanning eight generations, was as relevant today as it was when it began.
If you ever need to appear ‘fabulous’ in a meme, search for Angela Lansbury. You’ll find her there, resplendent in sequins and fur, taking a bow.
And I expect this is how she appeared for St Peter at his gates too.
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