Sunday, July 11, 2010
11 July, 1911
Never was such persistent bad weather. The air is thick with snow, the mood a vague blur. This is the fourth day of gale.
The dogs are very gay and happy in the comparative warmth. I have been trying shelter experiments on our rocky beach. I dug myself a hole in a drift in the shelter of a large boulder and lay down in it, and covered my legs with loose snow. It was so warm that I could have slept very comfortably.
I am glad to see that those in charge of keeping our stores have been very wily in revealing how much of a thing they actually have, often saying they have none or a limited supply in order to dissuade frivolous use when in fact we have plenty. Such parsimony is the best guarantee that we are prepared to face any serious call.