I'm British, so my book reviews veer towards the pithy and the sarcastic. Also, because I'm British, I tend to complain about the weather whenever it's below 10°C or above 15°C. And then I went and read Captain Scott's journals. He and his team walked to the South Pole because science. And then they tried to walk back but died because the weather was unseasonably shit.

I can't write anything pithy about that. I can't be sarcastic. Scott and his team are, to use that modern cliché, heroes. Reading their journey is as harrowing as it is inspiring. I'm rarely, if ever, patriotic about my country. But Scott and his expedition wanted to get to the South Pole for science, not to get to the South Pole first, and they faced their death on their return voyage not with gnashing of teeth but with stiff upper lips and dignity. Reading about it I was proud to be British, proud to be a scientist, and proud that as recently as a hundred years ago people like Robert Scott, Captain Oates, Doctor Wilson, Lt. Bowers, and P.O. Evans walked this Earth, all the way to the South Pole. ( )

I'm British, so my book reviews veer towards the pithy and the sarcastic. Also, because I'm British, I tend to complain about the weather whenever it's below 10°C or above 15°C. And then I went and read Captain Scott's journals. He and his team walked to the South Pole because science. And then they tried to walk back but died because the weather was unseasonably shit.

I can't write anything pithy about that. I can't be sarcastic. Scott and his team are, to use that modern cliché, heroes. Reading their journey is as harrowing as it is inspiring. I'm rarely, if ever, patriotic about my country. But Scott and his expedition wanted to get to the South Pole for science, not to get to the South Pole first, and they faced their death on their return voyage not with gnashing of teeth but with stiff upper lips and dignity. Reading about it I was proud to be British, proud to be a scientist, and proud that as recently as a hundred years ago people like Robert Scott, Captain Oates, Doctor Wilson, Lt. Bowers, and P.O. Evans walked this Earth, all the way to the South Pole. ( )

Well, I didn’t know what it would be like. I’m Australian, I’ve never seen fucken snow before. So I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and here I am, in Geneva in the snow and I have to say I have a pretty good idea of how Scott felt now.

My knitting group meets about an eight minute walk away, I set out way way early and I’d done my research, but like Scott, mistakes were made.

For a start I brought the wrong dogs. They were rubbish sled-pullers. And when I decided en route that I had to kill one of them for food, I should have noticed that the Manor Food store was just across the street from me…Sushi or pizza would have been so much simpler.

I’ll bet Scott had a conversation something like this when he was setting out:

Scott’s mother: Walter Raleigh Scott, you come back here right now. Right now.
Scott hops off the sled, goes to front door.
Scott’s mother: What have you forgotten to say before you go?
Scott thinks about this. Ummm. Thanks for the sandwiches?
Scott’s mother: Exactly. It’s a mom’s job isn’t it? You boys just go out galavanting in the snow, having fun while moms are home making the sandwiches and endlessly hoovering. And don’t you forget it.
Scott can see his fellow explorers in the sled, possibly laughing at him. Ummm. Gotta go now Mom.
Scott’s mother: Not yet young man. And what have you forgotten? The same thing as last time and the time before?
Scott looks at the sled which is just full of stuff and shrugs. I dunno, Mom. What?
Scott’s mother: Your jumper, you big wally. Honestly. What would you all do without Mom?
Scott finally escapes as Mom yells her parting words: And don't you be two years late for dinner like last time. It's the last meal I'll be cooking for you, I'm just telling you that right now.

Well nobody said that to me and I was halfway down the street before I noticed I didn’t have a jumper on. The dogs refused to turn around, like it was their problem? I should have eaten the lot of them.

But finally I do arrive. So I’m at Starbucks, get out of my sled and start tying it up to a tree when somebody in a uniform says ‘What are you doing?’ I say ‘Going to my knitting group’ and he says ‘No, that’s not what I mean, I mean there, what’s that?’ I don’t speak French. It’s possible he said ‘What the fuck’s that?’ He looked a bit like that’s what he meant to say. Is this guy a complete idiot, I ask myself. ‘H-e-lllooo. It’s my sled? Snow? Sled?’ Even in Australia we get the snow sled thing. I start wondering if maybe he’s Austrian or something. (Little joke to solicit votes from any Swiss goodreaders looking at this.) At this point I handed him my parking permit for ‘sled and eight dogs’ ahem, albeit seven at this point. My pre-trip research indicated that Swiss love documentation. Indeed, he looked a bit surprised, as well he might. I bought it for five bucks at a fakeIDonline site. But still, he was happy now. He even tried patting the dogs, which was a mistake on his part.

Damn. I’m not feeling all that great, I’ve just been checking wiki and it transpires I completely got the eating dog thing arse about. I thought the part you had to eat was the liver. It turns out that’s the only bit you mustn’t eat. Fuck. The ambulance is on its way – I’ll –

( )