‘Bloody freezing in the garden,’ he huffed.
‘What do you expect at 5 a.m.’
‘It really was blood red.’
‘Your nose or the moon?’ she muttered from beneath the duvet.
‘Beautiful,’ he said.
‘Me?’
‘The moon.’
‘Wrong answer. Anyway, you can’t get in.’
‘Why?’
‘With hands like ice! You should wear gloves.’
‘In bed?’
‘No, outside.’
‘Have you tried using a camera wearing gloves?’
‘Guess not. Jesus, your feet are like blocks.’
‘I’ll keep to my side.’
‘You’d better.’
‘I need warming up.’
‘I’ll just get some tea and a hot water bottle then.’
‘Beautiful,’ he sighed from beneath the duvet.
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