The Tom Crean Diary of Polar Exploration Mar14


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The Tom Crean Diary of Polar Exploration

Dear Thelma,

Jacobs has diarrhoea; it’s pretty bad this time. I told him not to eat the whole cask of whelk ears but there’s no talking to him when he’s got the hunger on him. Scott and Palmer told me separately about their dreams. It turns out they are indentical except in Scott’s the nude dancer is a man and there are two grizzly bears instead of seventeen. I didn’t ask. Palmer looks blotchy around the knees. He asked me to take a look but I told him I’m not a doctor. He pleaded with me, saying that they’ve become quite itchy. He offered to give me a foot rub in return for a diagnosis. I told him I’d rather walk home backwards to Kerry. Cooper said I’d never make it. That’s Cooper, always the logical one.

“Where’s all the fudge cake?” Bloom asked this morning. “We never had any,” Browny told him. Scott, ever the irascible one, punched Tawny Owl in the gut when the latter accused him of redecorating the tent. “Who cares if he does a bit of spring cleaning?” I wondered aloud. Scott brandished a fist and said, “You want some of this too, huh?” Then Cooper’s aunt, who’s not supposed to be here at all because her feet smell, admitted that she thought the tent could do with a bit of zest. Tawny Owl looked up from the floor and again offered to teach Bloom how to arrange flowers.

Goodnight. I need some sleep and I have to finish reading my cook book.