Is there any foodstuff more divisive than the humble scone?

Let us consider this question carefully by examining some contenders.

How about the Cornish pasty? The contents are legally bound to be beef (preferably skirt), potatoes, swede/turnip and onion, wrapped in shortcrust pastry folded into a perfect D shape and with a sufficient number of well-defined crimps.

If I sound like a judge – well, that’s because I did 10 rounds of the World Pasty Championships at the Eden Project in that very capacity. Have I mentioned this before? Oh well, one can never bring it up too often.

I tasted an awful lot of Cornish pasties, some good, some less so. And you know what? After tasting so many in one morning, I was glad to see the Open Savoury category, which encouraged creativity and revealed some of the most lip-smacking combinations known to man.

As an expert once told me, a pasty is “filling in pastry – like a pie”. No one will die if you stick some carrot in it (although you might be asked to “cease and desist” from calling it Cornish), or eat in any fashion other than out of the bag (I’m thinking of you, Rishi Sunak).

What about fish and chips? There are countless accompaniments to choose from – salt and vinegar, curry sauce, gravy, mushy peas, ketchup, batter bits – and these are so often attributed to geographical areas – north versus south.

This is fatuous: I come from the north, and find the idea of gravy or curry sauce absolutely revolting. Give me lashings of S&V every time – but I have learned to lay off the batter bits, for the sake of my arteries.

Then there are scones. Do you say sconn or scown? Which is posh depends on the prevailing view of your community, and even then, it’s not as simple as north/south. I’m scown all the way – you only said sconn round our neck of the woods if you served everything on flowery china and drank tea with your pinkie finger out.

We all know that a classic cream tea, served west (ie the “right” side) of the Tamar, sees a plain scone smothered with strawberry jam and a dollop of clotted cream on top. They do it differently in Devon; well, that’s their look-out.

In December, The Cornish Company in Bodmin trumpeted a UK first: the Christmas Dinner Scone, in response to the fact that almost 40 per cent of cooks found the festive feast to be a stressful experience. I can attest to that: the best advice I can give my family is to leave me in my kitchen with timings and stay out of my way.

Their stuffing-infused savoury scone came with a generous dollop of Boddingtons cranberry relish. They even recommended adding hand-sliced turkey and a spot of white wine and herb gravy, before tucking in and eating it with a knife and fork.

The words “crime” and “sacrilege” were bandied about on social media. The Guardian described it as the “biggest scone scandal of all time”. The Cornwall Heritage Trust, which seeks to protect and preserve the region’s heritage, issued a statement declaring: “Do not mess with a Cornish scone. A Cornishman would always enjoy a pasty over a Christmas dinner-flavoured scone.”

To be honest, if they have the temerity to do it a second year running after all this hoo-ha, I might stick an order in – I think it sounds quite nice. Sounds like I’ll need to be quick, though - apparently they sold like hot cakes, er, scones, and were gone in under 48 hours.

I’m piling the pounds on just thinking about all this food so soon after the season of excess. But I’m working on it. On Tuesday, I went to my first aerobics session in months, and managed to make it through the hour without having a heart-attack (the instructor even complimented me on my squats).

I also went ice skating at the Eden Project with Daughter and her friend (the Other Half watched from the sidelines). As well as being fun, skating helps to improve balance, coordination and cardiovascular health significantly, while engaging multiple muscle groups and burning calories.

You won’t see me doing any triple-axles, but I can at least stand up straight and move in a forward motion. I was impressed to see that after so many years’ practice – from toddler ice-play on Sunday mornings to the general skating sessions - Daughter was able to glide freely across the ice, well away from the barrier that more trepadatious skaters were clinging onto, white-knuckled. These included her friend, whose hand I held as she built up confidence.

As a reward, we headed to the café for a warming drink and, of course, cake. Damn, I put all those calories back on! I’ll just have to book another session…