White hunting

Friday, November 25th., Cadogan Square, London.

I went to the Reform Club to dine. I there met Raymond Mortimer and Francis Birrell. They had with them a chap by the name of Wilson, a retired 'white hunter'; injured in an accident involving a gun, right arm more or less useless. Interesting chap. Very obviously missing his trade and keen to talk about it. Will probably become a bore in time.

Told me that the first 'kill' is the hardest because the hunter doesn't know his own capacity. It is all about controlling fear. Said that some of his clients just couldn't cope with it, for example if they had to come to close quarters with a wounded animal, which often happens. Said he has seen men just turn and run away with fear, which is hard for them to cope with afterwards. On the other hand he has seen others who overcome their fear and gain tremendous confidence as a result. For some it completely changes their lives. Quite fascinating. As for himself he says that he came to the realisation that to fear death is illogical; if he were killed whilst hunting, well so be it; "Today is as good a day to die as any other." A model stoic attitude.

Also told us that most of his clients were Americans, usually a husband and wife. Apparently the women usually find the business of hunting and killing very exciting (sexually) though they may say they are 'horrified', and there is almost an expectation that they will sleep with the white hunter. Said he always took a double 'cot' with him on safari for that reason. Didn't say what the husband thought about it! Probably hadn't had opportunity to find out! 

Then Mortimer, Birrell and I went to the second night of Coward's "Sirocco". Goodish first act. Putrid second. And trying and hysterical third. On the whole a trying evening. I sometimes wonder why I bother to go out so often. I drove home with Birrell, and waited in bed for Dorothy to return. Pity she hadn't been out hunting.