I'm back, at last! Had a damnable time getting this old thing working again, and have had to rely on paper journal and pen.
Yesterday a blizzard broke upon us, the air thick with snow. We took the motors out for a test run on the floe but everything went wrong with them. I am secretly convinced we shall not get much help from them, yet nothing has happened to then that was unavoidable. A little more care and foresight would make them splendid allies. The trouble is that if they fail, no one will ever believe this.
I suppose that hindsight could have ensured that we brought with us the right fuel and spare parts.
Poor old Clissold, our cook, is greatly disappointed that he cannot go with the motor party on the Southern Journey. He took the most frightful fall while posing for Ponting and suffered quite a concussion. It was a stupid risk and we all suffer from it. Hooper and Lashley have taken over his duties in the kitchen and their work is well enough. It is splendid to have people who refuse to recognize difficulties.
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