After our walk last night, Kathleen set to massaging my feet, rather lovingly, and insisted I take care of them because they had so very far to walk and she intended to have the first dance with me upon my return. I'm afraid I gave her the impression she was being a bit soft about it all, and of course it did tickle -- but she is right, you can take care of all you want but if you let your feet go, it's over. So I assured her I would and that seemed to placate her for the time being.
I must not forget to bring that lovely little can of curry powder she snuck in for me among my personal things. How it will enliven the hoosh on those dreadful treks I can only imagine. I wish I'd had some last time around.
Have decided simply to ignore Amundsen: we shall keep to our proposed schedule as it is sheer folly to alter one's plans in the face of the "unknown." Besides, Markham doesn't set much stock in the Fram's ability to sail anywhere in a timely fashion, so all this worry might be for naught.
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