22 April, 1911

The sledging season is at an end. It's good to be back here finally after all the traipsing about out on that cold ice. Today we are enjoying exceptional calm. Oates and the rest are exercising the ponies. I have been sorting my papers and getting ready for winter work. The sun will be gone soon enough and then we'll be plunged into 6 months of darkness.

How wonderful it is to be among my books. Been reading poetry. They do have quite a way of turning a phrase, these chaps.