Monday, September 14, 2009

September 14, 1910

Fine weather at last, so you'd think everyone would be happy, but no. The Terra Nova rolls too much in the swell -- here we -- and when it does, it's crash this and yelp that and the bell rings bringing everyone out to see if it's the cook calling us in for grub. Invariably, it's not. 

At night, sometimes one can hear the piano stowed below clang out unholy tunes as it rocks back and forth. Did we bring spare strings for it? It would be a disaster if anything broke. Fortunately, the motor sledges are lashed tight, so we won't have any problem with those. 

Someone really ought to invent a way for chess pieces to stay where you put them on the board. 

There goes the bell again. I'm absolutely starving. 

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