Amundsen Missing

Today I embarked upon my third, and least successful, expedishun to the North Pole.   Phoebles came along too, 'cos he had nothing better to do and I needed someone to haul the sledge.   We packed a carefully calculated quantity of coleyfish sandwiches, galoshes, four pairs, and knitted bobble-hats, two.   Phoebles had wanted to borrow me Dad's budionovka, but it was much too big for him and he could not see from under it.
Barely had we begun to experience the first pangs of homesickness, somewhere NbyW of the Tree-House, than we received news of the Italia airship disaster and the loss of the famous arctic explorer Amundsen during an ill-fated rescue bid across the frozen wastes.   I believe this all took place some time ago, but no-one told me.
By the time me Mam got back from her vegetable cultivating on the allotment we had scuttled home, unpacked, consumed the sandwiches and were curled up feigning sleep.