Sitting here twiddling our thumbs going nowhere.
Luckily, Wilson has been out sketching and doing wonderful watercolors of the surrounding pack and bergs. He tried to capture some penguins out on the ice today by singing to them, and up they waddled quite happily until he stopped singing, and then all ran away!
Every now and then one can hear the strains of music coming up from below decks where one of the crew has fashioned a crude instrument out of a tin can and soldered an arm on it to hold string. Gran was quite impressed!
I do hope we have some decent piano players among us. We have several hundred recordings to play upon the gramophone. I'll have to get the Caruso out. That'll teach whoever it is warbling chanteys down there!
What a voice.
What a moustache.
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