Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Minus two degrees, it said. The fog was thick, not moving at all, and the prospect of the walk round to the village shop was distinctly unappealing. Especially this morning, feeling rough and after the encounter with my uninvited bedfellow had dragged me from the warmth of the duvet at four o’clock. Plus, I’d already been out long before dawn.

Ani, of course, had loved the freezing fog, coming back with ice crystals on her fur and a huge grin on her face. Not so her human. I was frozen. It is not that I do not own nice warm coats, you understand. It is just that for some unaccountable reason are in the car. Five miles away. And I have, with creditable persistency, failed to remember to bring one home.

I did, however, have the big plaid blanket which I had wrapped, shawl-wise, around me over my jacket. At…