I made a Gingerbread house on Christmas Eve, mostly inspired by seeing this video by Justine at which I like to scoff in a superior and obnoxious manner. “Gingerbread house in a box?” thought I, “What a cop out.” It all went swimmingly although I measured everything nicely before it went into the oven and conveniently forgot everything expanded inside.

Luckily when haphazardly trying to stick it all together, which was like using lumpy breakable bricks and was imaginably a pure delight, my father walked in proclaiming his tiling skills. I’ve never seen my Dad actually interested in cooking-related things so seriously before, but under the guise of DIY he (like me) got far too excited.

I was really pleased with all this until I met a friend at a pub who’d done exactly the same thing. We compared photos – hers was beautiful and intricate, and even had footprints in the icing snow. Mine looks like it’s been done by a five year old and the roof join has a big hole. I don’t really care though. We spent Boxing Day drinking champagne, playing a four hour game of monopoly and demolished it.

Also most impressed with ability of a roofy piece to stand up by itself.