My relationship with Winter Wonderland is personal. The event often opens on 22 November which is my birthday, and the first time I wandered through the fairy lit entrance, pulled along by the crowd, was on this very day. I was in my second year at a London university and had come with a friend visiting from my hometown to see what all the fuss was about.

I vividly remember spending my 20th birthday evening staring out for miles across the glittering lights of London’s skyline, legs dangling, heart racing as I sat terrified at the top of the highest ride. It was the kind that suddenly drops to the ground, leaving you silently screaming and wondering why you ever let someone, who throughout the years, you’ve seen use her own waist belt (back when waist belts were cool, OK) to keep in Sambuca-induced sick on a night out, push you into it. Still, it was thrilling to roam around and explore Hyde Park in a way we never had before, amongst the music and lights.

It’s also the place I had my first ever office party. As an intern at a small interior design start-up, our bosses (who at the time I thought were so grown up, but in reality, were probably the same age – and as clueless – as I am now) invited us all to get pissed on hot cider and slide around the ice rink. It was so silly, ridiculous and fun that actually, no work do has lived up to it since.

I’ve also often employed it as my go-to wintery first date spot. The endless stalls of festive tat (‘magic snow’, anyone?) provide great filler for those awkward moments when the conversation dips, while the buzzy atmosphere can even make an evening with a random from Tinder seem exciting.

Winter Wonderland 2020: “Why Christmas won’t be the same without it”