Thursday 9th January

Was a bit tired by the end of the international day today - the weather was colder and my knee not sound and this probably accounted for it. Brownie and I carried on in the morning and the others didn't get up till lunch time - and were then asleep mostly. Was bullied into bed (extremely cold) just after supper, but was so cold couldn't get to sleep soundly. Hoar frost is covering all the walls and parts of the bedclothes and it's most unpleasant when tossing about if you find your nose sticking in the snow! All my bedclothes used to fall on the floor but now they are frozen on to the wall. We have an oil-stove in the bedroom sometimes.

Friday January 10th

Black dogs and puppies let loose today. One of Upik's nine puppies died some days ago, we think she was choked by a bone as she looked well. Another has not been looking well and was brought into the hall to be fed on bread and milk etc. Euphemia, she has been named, and a sweet restless little thing she is. When you go into the hall she is invariably wandering about near the reindeer meat, but rushes to her box when she hears you coming and tries to look innocent.

The Petter wouldn't work this morning. Brownie tried hard and failed. In the afternoon it was a bit warmer and after many vain attempts at starting, and a few false starts she at last got going. She is now to be kept going - if possible - till it gets warm again - in April? Poor thing.

I've been making a pair of windproof trousers for Andrew as his second pair were eaten by the dogs. They were finished this evening - an incredible sight but serviceable, I think. Andrew calls them a 'work of art,' and if art consists of making lines crooked that should be straight, he is certainly right, for the seams run not at all parallel and even cross one another. I made them too small round the waist at first, and had to fit in a V-piece in front which added complication. With the Singer machine it was great fun, though I took an extremely long time over it.

Saturday Jan 11th

A washing day, but not so successful. Andrew threw in two pairs of pyjamas that were perfectly clean. He said that one pair had been worn all the time we were in tents and the other pair all the time at the Advanced Base, as if time of wearing were the criterion by which the washing question should be settled. It is the thickness of dirt that matters. I'm glad to record that they came out dirtier than when they went in owing to some honourably dirty shirts and underclothing of David's.

This is a veritable literary den nowadays; composition of the expedition is proceeding apace. John is really an excellent writer, amusing and able to pick out what is not important, and David is a valuable critic and also types at express speed using only the middle finger of each hand. Their combined chapter on the Boat Journey is more realistic and interesting than any chapter in any of the Polar books I have been reading recently. Andrew has been engaged with his earlier chapters, but writes too much about himself and fails rather in discriminating between the vital and the trivial.