Sunday, March 14, 2010

14 March, 1911

Went to to Crater Hill. It's blowing a terrible gale. On the way back down I saw a figure approaching and it was Griffith Taylor!

It seems that his party all got back safely and had fine weather. I don't think he's discovered very much, though.

It's been a long time since I gave you any pictures, so here are two: Above we have Stanley Weyman's My Lady Rotha, a gripping tale of the Thirty Year's War set in 1632, and here below we have one of Wilson's charming drawings of seals which no doubt he killed and skinned soon after and which we ate for dinner.

1 comment:

  1. Humbly beg pardon, sir, but it's most frustrating to get to the end of "My Lady Rotha" and find that some blighter's torn out the last chapter. Just wondered if you'd read it and, if so, what happens at the end? (Farmer Hayseed tells me that "rocks fall, everyone dies", but I don't think that can be a very satisfying ending.)

    Taylor seems to have had a ripping time out on the ice, the lucky fellow - wouldn't mind proving myself against the elements one day!

    Please excuse me, but if I don't go now I'll be late for the reading at the ramp. Cheerio for now!