David Jeremy Buckland James. 25/7/1949 – 25/9/ 2023
Brigadier John Smales and I set out from Somerset at the crack of dawn on 27th October 2023. It is a long way up to St Mary’s Church, Bromfield, Shropshire. It was hard to think about anything else except that we had both lost a very important friend.
St Mary’s Church has a foundation older than the Norman Conquest. How fitting that Jeremy should be buried there, for his love of horses is an ancient calling. Jeremy’s love of horses was far deeper than his grave. His childhood memories of riding in Kenya with his father were the corner stone of his future life. Although encouraged to take up law by his father, which he did not get on with, office life was not for Jeremy, he finally chose Agricultural college. From there driven by his love the outside
Vagabond and Saddletramp are two of the most insightful, funny and entertaining books ever written about long distance riding. They are the true wanderings of a brave man, they expand aloneness into a religion; his god is Pegasus, his sense of the ridiculous is his map, his thoughts his rosary. You just can’t put his books down. He is the last explorer, not only of terra firma but also of the mind, a twentieth century Lancelot; he had incredible courage and took on insane quests and won, he was fearless.
Jeremy’s charm was both a gift and a curse. Women fell for him; he enchanted people with his intoxicating love of life and his love of horses. His knowledge of horses, equine history, veterinary medications were a bottomless pit, you could ask him anything about those subjects he would have an answer. His work took him to the Middle East and his long distance riding took him right across Europe. His adventures were more numerous than most people could have in many lifetimes.
His communication with horses was exquisite. He loved them. He came and gave a talk on The Byerley Turk at my, ‘Origin of the Thoroughbred’ exhibition at Bourne Hall in Ewell, 2004. Stupidly I did not record it.
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He was a man who buried himself in his writing and the rich leafy countryside. His knowledge of his environment in Wales and Shropshire included flora and fauna. He never married, but had many important relationships. His most important relationships I believe were with his horses. He loved Karo and Gonzo, the two horses he rode across Europe and bought home, but it was his two Jack Russell Terriers who escorted him everywhere, like keepers they kept a very close eye on him.
When he worked for the ILPH he helped rescue Lipizzaners from war-infected Bosnia. He also wrote a paper on transporting horses, a crime which continues today and would appal him. The book Debt of Honour should be read by every horse enthusiast.
His fictional writing takes you down a magical rabbit hole; he is the White Rabbit, running constantly looking at his watch for inspiration; you have to follow. In his masterpiece The Alchemical Horseman, he shows his storytelling genius. Two tales woven together with exquisite genius until they become one.
The Tippling Philosopher was extracted from many alcohol-educed nights in a local pub. How he extracted those stories form the farmers one will never know. It is a masterpiece of storytelling revealing local myths from the depths of the wild hills of Wales and Shropshire.
The Byerley Turk is a superb retelling of a story about the horse that became the progenitor sire of the modern thoroughbred. It would never have been understood by any other writer. He was always ready with a word of advice or praise, or an insight into a problem. He was easy to love, impossible to tie down. His long emails were full of wisdom and kindness.
Jeremy introduced me to one or two of his many friends, Brigadier John Smales, CuChullaine O’Reilly and Andrea Bubear, one of his greatest gifts to me. I deeply valued his friendship and will miss him evermore. He held the gift of richness and enriched the lives of those he met.
Caroline Baldock 2026
