I wake before the others. It’s silent in the cabin, six o’clock, and I’m so tired, my head feels laden and heavy after last night’s drinks, but I can’t get back to sleep. Eventually I get up and take a run along the narrow path down by the jetties; my legs are heavy, but I manage it. I only see one other jogger out and about, we nod at one another, I’m pleased with my pace. I run faster now than I did when I was thirty, not faster than when I was twenty, obviously, but I’m one of the fastest among us when our office puts a team forward for the relay race at Holmenkollen each year. Lots of us are fast runners, age is no excuse for idleness, my boss always says, you just have to make it a priority. Marthe has tried jogging with me on a few occasions, but she had to throw in the towel after just a few minutes, nobody can keep up with me, speedy Ida. Do it, do it, do it, do it, I tell myself as I run uphill, just as I always do, pushing until my sides burn. I shower afterwards and fetch the keys for the big boat before making my way down to the jetty. I unclip the hood and fumble for a long while when it comes to starting the engine because I can’t quite remember what 62position the levers need to be in and which of the switches I’m supposed to flick, but eventually I get there, then I untie the mooring ropes and push off. The sunlight falls brightly on the surface of the water and everything is as clear as glass and there is nobody out here, it’s beautiful.

I chug out past Storholmen and Neset and Tangen, the waves knocking against the bow. A gull follows the boat, a huge bomber plane, it flaps after me as I pick up speed and the wind blows through my hair, I start to feel cold, should really have brought a coat. I bat a hand in the gull’s direction and it flaps its wings and soars away.

‘A natural,’ I say aloud, then feel embarrassed.