IN 1965 I HAD to apply for admission to secondary school. As part of the preparation for this, the headmaster of my preparatory school (The Hall in London’s Swiss Cottage) interviewed each of the pupils who were ready to apply for admission. I was one of them. With some trepidation, I met him in his office. One of the questions he asked was: “What do you read?”. I answered: “Thrillers”. Then he asked me which thriller writers I liked. I answered: “Ian Fleming. I enjoy the James Bond stories.” Mr Cooper, the headmaster, seemed upset by my response. After a moment, he asked: “Don’t you read Margery Allingham?” I had never heard of her, and when I told him this, I felt that he thought I was a ‘lost cause’. Now, 59 years later, I have not yet read any books by her, but thanks to Mr Cooper, I have known about her for a long time.