There is a different atmosphere surrounding New Year’s Eve this time around, and even a new lexicon. Where once there were club nights, party outfits and bubbles, we now have bubbles (the isolating kind) and pods, quarantine and the question on everyone’s lips: “how many people can I invite to my house without breaking the law”?

No need for doom and gloom, however. The way we see it, this past year has made us realise what resilient and adaptable creatures we are. So, we can, nay, we must, put a ceremonial full stop at the end of 2020 and have fun, whatever restrictions we are abiding by. To prove this is possible and provide some inspiration, we asked five men – from the CEO of Volcán tequila to renowned partier Mr Jack Guinness and our very own Chief Sub-Editor – how they are ringing in this New Year in style.

This year, New Year’s Eve will be spent either in the countryside or on a winter beach escape with friends – likely in Amagansett in the Hamptons. I expect an early start and plan to cook a large chicken with truffle and foie gras stuffing (a famous dish from NoMad and Eleven Madison Park in NYC) and all the winter vegetable trimmings. This will be accompanied by a magnum of Dom Pérignon. Then, a winter stroll to get some natural air before returning to tequila cocktails and dinner. Age-appropriate hits (1980s/1990s) and agave-fuelled drinks will inspire very bad dancing and questionable board games to ring in the evening.

Getting through this year has been like winning The Hunger Games. What’s to celebrate except our survival? But that’s the best thing about being British, we love a celebration because of tough times, not in spite of them. Some of my best nights ever have been at wakes or funerals. So, I’m taking the same approach with NYE. After I’ve stopped crying, mourning the year that never was, I’m going buck wild.

To stay at home or venture further afield – that is the question. One option is to rent a little place and select your most legendary mates for the weekend of your life. Or alternatively have a house party – a good NYE trick is to stick close to home. It’s a rookie mistake to traipse around London in a big group trying to get into bars or house parties and then ringing in the new year in an alleyway, no one quite sure when it’s turning midnight.

This year, however, none of us know what the restrictions are going to be... fears for tiers. So, I suppose, after all that, I’ll dress up in a tux (there’s nothing sadder or more surreal than dressing up at home and staying in), make a Gibson and watch Jools Holland (DON’T TELL ME THAT’S BEEN CANCELLED, TOO?!).

We’ve got two children under six, so we were pretty much living in lockdown even before Covid-19 turned up. If they’re compliant and stay in bed, we’ll crack open a bottle of prosecco from our Brexit stockpile, stick on our 2020 Spotify playlist (featuring Ms Kelly Lee Owens, Mx India Jordan and The Avalanches; not too loud – we don’t want to wake up the kids) and party like it’s 1999. Or until 10.30pm, when I inevitably fall asleep, whichever comes sooner.

We live on a piazza. With a terrace overlooking… everything. Often bustling but quiet of late. It’s a bit like being on a yacht. Marooning quietly. Some distant fireworks. The square comes alive.

I’ll be dressed properly (which is important), maybe a black watch tartan dinner jacket, a wider than average lapel. There will be champagne before and loads of whisky after. Pol Roger, Sir Winston Churchill 1999 comes to mind. Sets the mood. The kids will be all over the place, as will the dogs. It will only be us, the family. Gazing at the piazza.

The food will be delicious. The wine will be old. We have a beautiful, vintage, backgammon board that we’ll put to use. I will put on opera, my wife will overrule with 1980s music, which is fine by me. It’s a new year. Come what may. Tonight I am only interested in my wife’s stockings. My only goal and resolution. I guess I’m just an old dog.

This year, I’m shedding all traditions and making some new ones without the expectations of other people. You can keep your sad Zoom parties and readymade cocktails. Instead, my girlfriend and I plan to find out just how much fun we can have dancing to Japanese city pop in our living room with a couple of bottles of champagne, a really fancy takeaway (they do those now!) – most likely featuring the tiramisu from Gloria – and an argument about who’s going to throw out the browning Christmas tree. We might even kiss at midnight.