Our signals were not picked up, then they faded as we lost power. Nobody is coming searching. Our last logistic support was lost on the 12th of March 2021.  The Major deserted, and the rest fell through. Intrepidus and 3 others were born that same day. Anniversary of our mother's final breath, albeit so many years afore. Intrepidus was crushed to death the week impending his second birthday. The other 3 no less taken, and not alone. A massacre. All this after the loss of Wooze, on Christmas Eve of 2020. 
Consequential fury and entropy have left little of the food preparation area. The rodents destroyed the rest. Sardines and tuna out of cans and a mess tin's worth of heated convenience veg soup are now the daily staple, with some cheese and sausage or corned beef for fats and salts washed down with two pints. An XS and a malt beer. 
It is not as bad as some may think. Boring perhaps, rather miserable in essence, but of good nutritional value. We could do better, but lavish dinners eaten alone were never quite our thing, even when there was time, mind, and sufficient functional utilities to pursue such ventures.  
This is not a diary, we just keep our mind occupied by writing these mundanities. Pretending to speak to someone until the silence eventually permeates the depths of our soul, for the candles shorten and the shadows grow. Penetrate the arachnid fingers of darkness in this fractured light.