This article was first published in a Slovenian newspaper called Nedeljski dnevnik on August 23, 1967. Written first in the Slovenian language, it was translated into English by Mateja Skoda. The author of this article is Janez Čuček.Thanks to Ms. Skoda for allowing its reprint here. You can visit her site at: http://www25.brinkster.com/agathachristie/chat_with_agatha_christie.asp
A lady who stirred up so much curiosity was sitting peacefully on balcony of the second floor.
A cup of leftovers of black coffee, a camera, a book on her knees and pleasantly grumbling husband between door--a set which would probably be good for a beginning of an exciting story.
Missing was of course a murder.
Yes, a murderer was definitely missing but torturers were not. Waiters could tell one a lot about reporters which were annoying Mrs. Agatha Christie with questions.
I said:" Good day and excuse me for bothering you."
She nodded while still sitting on the chair, she smoothed wrinkles on her bright gray dress and with gesture of her hand calmed her husband, who was obviously displeased with the whole thing, but he didn't forget his British politeness.
"They said that Bohinj will be a peaceful place where an old lady can spent a few days in peace..." she said, and it seemed that those words were spoken also with some humor, not anger.
"This is nice place," she said. "How are called those hills back there?"
"I think that that is Komna," I said. " Up there is a nice hotel."
"K-k-k-Komna? A strange name but a very beautiful hill!"
Then she said: "How do you find out so fast that someone came? They said that in Yugoslavia there won't be troubles with reporters."
"Troubles with reporters are everywhere," I said. " That is even written in one of your books if I remember correctly."
She nodded.
"Are you maybe planning to write some new book?" I asked.
"I doubt," totally unexpected said her husband, who meanwhile appeared between the door. "At this age one has the right to rest, isn't that true?"
That is of course one hundred percent true. But it somehow seemed that Agatha Christie didn't have the same opinion.
"It is never good to entirely quit with work," she said.
From her room number 206 in the second floor in the Bohinj hotel Bellevue there is a wonderful view towards Stara Fuzina. While she was posing to the photographer for a shot, she was lively observing the landscape. Two string of necklaces were tinkling around her neck.
"Would it be possible to base a book which would take place in these places?" I said.
"I really wouldn't like to stain this corner with a murder," she said. " It is too beautiful."
"It is probably difficult to write so many good books" I asked.
"No," she said, "if one knows his work. I know my work which is so specific, that it requires besides knowing how to write also knowing some other things. For example: drowned person can't die because of poisoning..."
"One of your stories is happening in Yugoslavia, how come?"
"Do you think that about Orient Express? Oh, but that surely isn't happening in Yugoslavia, is it? If I remember correctly there is a train, but it says nowhere that is going right through your country?"
My trump card was of course very firm. " All Orient Express trains go through Yugoslavia," I said kindly.
She smiled very very pleasantly and said: "That is quite true."
Agatha Christie, who has been writing for long decades, came on vacation to Bohinj directly from London. Surname famous lady who wrote a lot of detective novels and plays (We were watching Mousetrap also on stage in Ljubljana), is actually Mallowan--that is how it was written in hotel's book of guests.
"What will you be doing these days?"
"I will be reading and taking photos. I will be going on walks, maybe a little of rowing on the lake... That will be all... If you will let me, of course," she added waggishly and after all she could have said that entirely serious.
How long will she stay in Bohinj she doesn't know. If she will like it she will stay longer, if not she will leave sooner.
"Where to, Mrs. Christie?"
"You probably won't believe but I really don't know. I decide about these things when I have to."
She was all the time pleasantly kind, polite, but she had some indefinite determination in her gestures.
Her husband was still sincere against this interview because "she has more than seventy years and she is tired," when the interview was already finished.
The interview was in fact a chat between two accidental acquaintances and one of them was stubbornly intruding.
Chat was in spite of all pleasant.
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