Hello, dearest daydreamer. Welcome to the Isle of Neverwas and the Lost and Found Exchange.

It is the eleventh day of Yule, New Year’s Eve, a time for celebration and joy. Are you ready for a party? The fairy folk are all dressed up, and they have their dancing shoes on. It’s time for another story.

My dearest daydreamer, you have arrived at the top of the harbour. It’s dusk, and as the sun dips below the horizon, the purples and blues of the sky give way to inky blackness, with stars twinkling overhead. A full moon hangs low in the sky, illuminating the waves as they crash against the shore. A cold breeze blows off the sea, making the air chilly, grains of sand dancing across the beach. The tide is rolling out away from the harbour.

The road from the top of the harbour zig zags all the way down to the harbour wall with steps down onto the beach. The cottages have gardens at the front, still covered in frost and snow, the sparkling lights turning them into mini winter wonderlands. More lights are festooned between the lampposts. They are decorated with seasonal evergreens, silver bells, and bows. Some of the islanders take shortcuts down the steps between the houses in a hurry to get out of the cold and start the party. Tonight’s festival takes place at the bottom of the harbour. A huge marquee has been set up for the occasion.

Fairy folk music drifts out of the tent and up the winding street to greet the partygoers. There is a tang of vinegar mixed with the smell of fish and chips and salty sea air. Closer to the marquee, singing and laughter fill the harbour along with the sound of feet thumping around on the dance floor. 

The party has already started. Inside the tent is a dance floor, with a small stage for the band to perform. Around the edges of the dancefloor, tables and chairs are arranged. The older islanders are sitting down, watching the dancers with enjoyment, tapping their feet along to the music.  The band is already in full swing. Couples are dancing and twirling each other about on the dance floor, the youngest island folk holding hands, skipping, and weaving through the grown-up dancers. A handful of little ones are already asleep in the corner on top of a pile of coats, worn out by all the excitement. 

As midnight approaches, the music softens inside the tent, a signal to the island folk that it is time to make their way outside and onto the sand. Arms are pushed back inside coats, scarves are wrapped back around necks, and gloves are put back on. Anticipation and magic fizz in the air. You can hear the waves crashing far from the shore where you are standing.

A bonfire has been lit on the beach, and baskets of wishing pinecones have been added to the blaze. Yule wishes are being burned and released into the air, and smoke twirls towards the stars. Sparklers and candles are handed around the crowd. More islanders make their way onto the sand, and the light grows brighter and chases away the darkness. The fireworks begin, colourful explosions of light fill the night sky, lighting the faces of the crowd below. Light fills the sky and is reflected on the sea below, dancing across the top of the waves before slipping into the sea. It is a beautiful sight to behold. There is a fizz of excitement for the year ahead and what it will bring. There will definitely be more dancing. 

Following the fireworks, some of the islanders return to the marquee, and the band resumes the music, with an upbeat tempo to welcome the returning dancers and the new year. Some island folk linger for a little while, enjoying the chilly night air whispering to the moon and stars their thanks for the year that they are leaving behind. Other fairy folk are assembled along the harbour wall, chatting and wishing each other well for the year ahead. Some of the islanders will drift home, their feet tired and their beds calling to them.

The party continues through the night. The music becomes softer and slower, and the dancers sway gently to the music. Some of the fairy folk are sitting at tables, heads propped up on hands, resting their eyes for a moment, and yawns escape them.  Other islanders are asleep in chairs, their gentle snores adding to the melodic nature of the music.

For my daydreamers, mischief-makers, and restless souls. Welcome to the Isle of Neverwas. You are home.