Of COURSE the star had to be edible. That’s mark II.
I inflicted minor injuries on myself bending an unwilling and recalcitrant bit of wire into a lovely star shaped tree-topper.
Then I burned myself glueing creamy toffees onto it.
Then my handsome husband came home and told me it looked like a satanic symbol.
So I cursed him – because of course I can’t look up at the tip of our tree each day and be reminded that the devil is in the detail – and made another.
I think the second looks less like a star and more like some kind of hallucinogenic starfish. No time for Mark III though, so pushing on.
I just adore the colours and slightly old-fashioned feel of the toffees. And that each other one says “creamy”. Mmmmm, creamy.
At least we got to eat the old star. Only the most stubborn toffees, the ones on which the hot glue melted through the wrapping and actually soldered the toffee itself to the wire escaped the slow but steady and inevitable consumption.
Some less enamoured with this time of year might see that as a metaphor for modern Christmas and all its trappings.
I just see delicious, creamy toffees. Mmmm, they’re really creamy.