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.

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