It was a neat trick years ago to accordion fold eight rectangles of tissue paper and cinch their middle and delicately tease upward and downward sixteen pieces to make a pom-pom. The large rectangles of tissue paper make for impressive statement pieces, hung around a room like un-poppable balloons.

I made these for my mother-in-law’s birthday, in white and pink, and again in multi-colour for a welcome-home party and then just recently I revived the craft like a back-pocket trick for my son's seventh birthday.

I remember being so nervous in those early years when I hosted parties. I was unsure of things and pored over suggestions and decoration ideas and narrowed them down into lengthy to-do lists. I think that early anxiety was necessary purchase for today’s confidence.

Just last year I threw a party in winter, so people could gather and eat baked cookies and drink a cocktail. There is always work involved, but I get a craving for having people fill the house with chatter and laughing. The memory of it warms me and reminds me that for all the goings on about solitude, I get ravenous for connection too - big simmering stews of it.

I'm not sure when the next party will be. Getting together is done now in little pieces, here and there, limited by number, duration, location. It's summer right now, and so the lighter diet is something I don't think about so much. But winter will come and then, I suspect, I’ll struggle to sustain myself on pom-pom memories.