“Hurry up with that fire. I’m bloody freezing!” Donna complained, hunching her shoulders, stamping her feet, and rubbing her bare hands together.
“I’m doing the best I can; it’s a long time since I had to do this.” The Doctor was attempting the whole Boy Scout thing of starting a fire using friction to create a spark, but so far all he’d produced was an occasional wisp of smoke.
“Can’t you just use your sonic screwdriver or something?”
“Doesn’t work on wood.”
Donna shivered. “The rate you’re going that’ll be my epitaph. Next time we visit earth I’m buying matches.”