Wednesday, 4 August 1948. It is odd how one's ideas change. Here we are in a dry, hot climate where nothing can possibly live, and I find myself wishing for rain which I cursed so thoroughly a few days ago because it drowned everything. Here I cannot find even a scorpion or a centipede and since the brown snake I shot the other day when we arrived and a tree snake which Len found the next day, there is nothing in the reptile line either. Coen, I understand, is going full blast. George and Len were in this after- noon and returned with the mail, but there was absolutely no word of any sort from Burns Philp though they have been holding me up on several matters for weeks now. "They have proved themselves to be thoroughly broken reeds. In the matter of our next camp, there is still some question as to how we shall penetrate into the Rocky Scrub. It is no simple matter and much of the ter- rain is impassible even to pack animals. The difficulty in this part of the world is to find anybody who really knows what he is talking about. Many of the bush men and miners have made statements about things to be found in [illegible] certain localities and when taken out cannot even find the localities, much less the things they said were in them. They call themselves, proudly, bush men, yet do not know the bush they talk about. I would take an Indian any time in preference to the half-white. After letters, and, finally, a telegram to the Protector of Islanders, per- mission came through today for our boys to obtain clothing at Coen. The method was crude - first the letter of authority had to be shown from the individual boy's Mission, then his hand was grasped by a policeman (there are three in Coen), his thumb inked and applied to a receipt. After that he was thrown some clothing, regardless of size. Moreton came back with a pair of jodhpurs, of all things. Joe is silly drunk again this evening; there is little we can do, in point of fact. It would be hard to replace him and a new cook would probably be no great improvement. Once we can get away from places where there are grog sel- ers he will be all right again, but if it is obtainable, he will find means of getting it. The money is his, and we cannot hold up his pay, earned as it has been. It seems to me that it would almost be better to let him go and somehow do the cooking ourselves, but I am sure it would fall to my lot. At the moment he is sitting outside my window, swigging from his bottle and talking to hi, self. It is too late now to go out and do any hunting, so I shall turn in soon. Hunting here is poor anyway but it fills in the time. Thursday, 5 August 1948. This morning I spent in unpacking and checking the shipment which came in to Annie River. As far as I can see, we are short only a half bag of potatoes, which may be in Thompson's store somewhere. Joe was slightly better this morning but is talking to himself again now. He is something of a problem but is all right when we get away from the grog shops. That we shall be doing in a few days, for a few weeks, so things may come through all right, but I am so heartily sick of the hopeless inefficiency I see all around me, disguising itself, and even getting itself some sort of praise, under the name of the "bushman's way". I seem to be in some sort of a mood tonight. It would be better, I think, if I write no more and just spend the rest of the evening with some sort of book.