A few days ago we celebrated my Godmother’s birthday with a tea party. She wanted finger sandwiches, little cakes and all things delicate and dainty. We (me, Mum, sister) accepted the challenge, confident that we could do fiddly as well as the next home-baker.

We had listened to super-judge combo Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry on the BBC’s Great British Bakeoff, we’re not bad in the kitchen, we invested in Lakeland’s finest piping equipment and we were ready.

• Cucumber sandwiches
• Egg and cress sandwiches
• Egg and anchovy sandwiches (don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it)
• Smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches
• Scones
• Mini lemon tarts
• Chocolate cupcakes
• Rose and strawberry macarons
• Choux buns with raspberry and white chocolate

We messed about a bit on the day before, whipped up some cupcakes and a batch of lemon tarts and had a good natter. We weren’t worried. At about 10pm I decided to get the macarons done so we would be well ahead for the big day. At midnight I was trimming them into a circular shape with kitchen scissors: they were as fragile as a soap bubble and yet diabolically sticky. I started to realise we had maybe taken on more than we imagined.

The next day was a blur: we cooked solidly for five hours. Nothing we had chosen to make was complicated or technically challenging, but the level of presentation we were aiming for was high and we struggled.  It turns out that afternoon tea is harder than Christmas Dinner.

At 3.30 they arrived – balloons were in place, pot warmed, cushions plumped. Three sweaty and sugar-coated bakers waited for the judges’ comments.

This morning I received a card and a bunch of flowers from my Godmother wishing us good fortune in our new office. She ran her own business with my uncle for many years, she’s a fascinating, crazy lady and she said her birthday tea was perfect. Someone tell Paul Hollywood that an ‘even bake’ isn’t necessary.