Not a bad guess. But no.
Let’s just say he didn’t adore the situation.
Somewhere really humid. The tropical greenhouse at Kew Gardens?
In a tunnel of love at a ye olde time funfair.
Oh yes, sorry.
I give up. I’m not ruddy Hercule Poirot.
Poisonous gas from opening a packet of love hearts.
Do you all give up?
I’m happy to post the solution.
No. I will not give up until my ice knife is little more than an innocuous pool on the floor.
Not at an airport.
He’s surrounded by panes of glass.