A low-key New Year’s celebration, as usual. Salmon stew with cream and saffron for dinner. (With kohlrabi instead of fennel because, shockingly, the supermarket was all out of fresh fennel.) And an experimental dessert, which tasted absolutely delicious, even though parts of the recipe didn’t work out as expected. (ICA’s whipped panna cotta with marinated raspberries and an oat crunch.)

Ingrid went off after dinner to celebrate with her friends, and my mum also left before midnight in order to drive home safely before the promised snow storm. With just Eric, Adrian and myself, the mood wasn’t quite as celebratory. We watched Pulp Fiction – Adrian has been interested in older movies recently – and that was that.

The snow storm wasn’t too bad around midnight, but visibility was crap. We didn’t bother going up on the roof, which we normally do for the great views, because there wouldn’t be any views anyway. Instead we walked to a nearby football field, hoping that people around it might use it to fire off their fireworks. A few did. But a lot of the time we could hear the cracks and booms but not see anything through the snow and the low-hanging clouds. It was like there were invisible ghost fireworks all around us.