Item 127 - Letter from Venetia Stanley to [Edwin Montagu]

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MONT II/A/1/127


Letter from Venetia Stanley to [Edwin Montagu]


  • 7 June 1915 (Creation)

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[The British Hospital, Wimereux.]—Has learnt how to ride a motorcycle and been for a walk on the cliffs with Conrad. Has written to Violet. There is nothing to do [at the hospital] at present. Has received his parcel.

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Monday June 7th 1915

My darling I couldnt help feeling a vague spurt {1} of resentment when this evening’s post brought nothing from you, tho’ of course I knew you couldnt have written. The day has passed off with no very marked incident. Glorious weather & I’ve learnt to ride a weak motor bicycle which whirls one along the road at a very satisfactory pace, I mean to use it a lot its a delicious sensation. Then I went & sat on the cliffs with Conrad, he was really excited at yr news about the marsh harrier. While I was waiting for Conrad to turn up I saw two military figures approaching me and thinking they must be Gilbert & Conrad I waved with considerable warmth & gusto, when I got nearer I found they were complete strangers. This evening when I went out for a little walk after work I met them again & they thinking I was a friendly sort of woman (for they had seen me immediately after catch Conrad) entered into further conversation and one of them invited me to walk with him every evening from 8.30 till he went home. Isnt that a feather in my cap, but I’m afraid if I accepted I should undo the first excellent impression I’d made so I shall avoid that particular walk.

I’ve got nothing to look forward to tomorrow, I shall have to try & live as best I can till Saturday.

I wrote Violet a long letter saying I should be wretched if she were to quarrel with me over this thing (so I should) and that she mustnt dream of doing so as I’d quite made up my mind to do it. There is dog nothing to do here, I shall come home on the 24th if this goes on much longer. The parcel arrived safely last night, the bath stuff is delicious, I make the wards reek of it.

It seems a hundred years since I saw you last, far longer ago than Cambridge.

All during the day I have thought of lots of things I wanted to say to you but I cant think of them now. Not a nice letter this, I’m sorry about it.

Your ever loving


Written at the British Hospital, Wimereux.

{1} Reading uncertain.

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