Normally a duvet war begins when one person pulls too much of the cover over themselves, meaning the other person is left clinging on to whatever material is left.
But duvet wars have entered a new chapter with us. Now we seem to be kicking the duvet off ourselves and on to the other, doubling the tog.
I awoke one morning this week, sweating profusely under a tower of goose feather. Needless to say, Sarah had shoved her half on to me, cooling herself down.
We’ve compromised this week. We’re down to a single sheet and the fan is on constantly.
Our neighbours must think that a hovercraft is on its way to Alverstoke!