After more than 10 years spent working in the food industry, I was always the friend who offered to host the birthdays, Easters and weddings (yes, really). So, for my 29th birthday in 2022, I decided to invite 36 of my closest friends and family for a massive dinner at the east London warehouse home I share with six friends.

I hired trestle tables and benches, and my mum scoured charity shops for enough cutlery, water jugs and glassware. For the cooking, I hired a small prep kitchen to batch-cook enough meatballs, tomato sauce, fried almonds, lemon curd, pavlova and Basque cheesecake to feed everyone. My housemate Virginia offered to help with the styling and tablescaping, and she pulled together a crisp, clean white table, peppered with ranunculus and flickering candles, seemingly out of thin air.

While it was deeply chaotic and strung together (at one point, my dad donned an apron and started dolling out plates of spaghetti in the kitchen), the dinner was, ultimately, a triumph. We served all 36 guests plentiful antipasto, glossy plates of pasta and tumbling platters of citrussy green salad, and then let them tuck into a dessert table with options for all.

“I run the coolest supper club in London. These are my 10 golden rules for hosting (and being hosted)”