The letters of Julian Grenfell, June 1914
Audio footage of extracts from Julian's letters
Read by Nick Blatchley
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4 June 1914 – Royal Dragoons, Potchefstroom
Casie darling
I suppose you’re at Eton today with all the nuts. The Hawthorn Hill party must have been very good. It’s terribly sad about poor Hamel, isn’t it? He was a tiger, from all a/cs.
I gave your message to Our Alf. He is in great form. No news from here much, except that we come home this next trooping season for sartin sure. We’ve all been agitating to get hurdle racing started here by the big clubs. Pretoria gave a race on June 1st, £125 and £25 Cup. We had 18 starters – 2¼ miles; it was a great success. I ran my two horses, Delilah & Wacht Een Beetjie. Won’t the bookies make a mess up of the latter’s name, if I bring him home! He was carrying 9st, and I had a real good boy to ride him, but just as I was weighing him out, a furious bookie’s lout dashed in, followed by 3 of the stewards, who pulled my brave boy out of the chair and hustled him out for a ‘blacklister’. He owed the books £20. Catastrophe, I had to ride myself, 2½ stone overweight!
The next thing was that I found Delilah doped and half alive. They had got at her in the train. What a life! What a country!
Give my love to everyone. It will be fun seeing you again. You seem to have had a great year.
Bless you Julian
18 June 1914 Potchefstroom
Darling Mother
No time to write this week, except to send you oceans of love & blessings, and to thank you tremendously for your letter. We’ve just had our ‘Waterloo Day’ parade, with all the geegaws; and the German Consul presenting a wreath from the German Emperor, etc, etc. Of course the awful thing happened, and the horse with the man carrying the standard kicked, bucked, & BOLTED! Awful scene. The standard had to be handed over to another man! All this week is a glorified show, parades & balls & polo & all sorts. I wish I had been born in the Fiji islands, with a nice brown stomach cloth & nothing else. You seem to be having the greatest fun, in the height of the season; and you do sound welly.
I am sorry about poor Hamel.
We come home November by the latest rumour. I’m going to have a shoot in Rhodesia before that.
I’m awfully well, Mummy; and I do want to see you. J
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