Looking around the boat, Gem was delighted to see all the pirates, the misfits, the stowaways, runaways, outcasts and orphans all gathered for the annual Christmas party that was not a Christmas party. It had been snowing for a month, unusually early, and it had not been easy for some of them to make their way along the towpath - the way was icy and the road down to the canal from the village was thick with snow. It had been many years since the canal had frozen, but this winter it had, and the sides of the boat were creaking with the pressure of the ice. Gone were the ducks who in summer swam past begging for bread. Occasionally one saw a deer in the woods beyond, but mostly it had been a quiet month, until at last, the night of nights was upon them. Festivus was for revelry, for catching up with old pals and meeting new ones that had been pulled into the vortex of Gem and Jez's hospitality, for being jolly and quite often debauched, and noisily celebrating the tiny miracles in the mundane.

All had brought a token lump of wood: it was so cold that it would be rude not to bring something to feed the stove. Lumps of oak and ash were unceremoniously thrown under a tarp on the deck, protected from the snow that still fell as if it were created to make a greeting card of Christmas, with the smoking narrowboats and barges that littered the waterways painted in muted colours in the foreground.

The revellers stumbled in with cries of 'happy solstice' and 'merry Christmas', or 'alright, love!', depending on their systems of belief, but all had Festivus in their hearts and it did not matter so much the greeting. They had their own, self created tradition of hats. This year's theme was "queen", given the recent death of. Gem's this year was a Narnian snow queen, her silver sprayed cardboard crown stitched with silver baubles that mimicked berries in a snowstorm, and crinkly brown leaves that rustled as she walked. Someone had decorated a top hat with images of the young Elizabeth. At closer look they found her smiling head stuck jauntily atop naked woman on 1940"s postcards. Being so tall, it had to be left at the door, but was met with laughter and awe.

Jez arrived last, dumping a kilo bag of coffee beans at the bottom of the stairs and pulling off his wellies, dangerous footwear but warm, lined with sheepskin to keep toes from frostbite. His hat had lovely spaniel earred flaps that hugged his ears and giant googly eyes stuck at last minute on the peak. Not particularly queen like, but Jez was quite regal in both reputation and demeanour, so no one minded. By the end of the night, Jez would disappear into a snowstorm and they would never see him again, but for now, he was theatrically whacking snow from his trousers and greatcoat, and showing off a moustache that was encrusted with frost.

'Here he is!' they all declared. 'A miracle!'.

Gem accepted him into her embrace and kissed the ice from his lips passionately: an old friend, she loved the taste of Jez, though they had not been lovers for many years. It did indeed seem a miracle that he had arrived, co host to his own party. The googly eyes rolled in their plastic lens and the leaves crunched happily as the pair, hosts of the party, embraced.

'The Festivus Beans are here!' they laughed, and Lexi grabbed a handful ready to grind. 'A miracle!'. They could not last all the Festivus long night without caffeine, and expresso martinis would make a good start. Someone picked up a guitar, another a fiddle, and another a bottle of whiskey. Say what you like about this ragtag bunch of anti Christians, they still were decidedly full of enviable spirit, good cheer, kindness and a sense of family that had all to do with love and nothing to do with genetics.

It was hard to describe that to the police, afterwards, when the boat was on fire and sinking into the canal, and Jez had disappeared. They all had different versions of events, but that was Festivus for you - utter chaos. Here was no well timed turkey or orderly gifting of presents under a Marks and Spencers tree. Here was howling at the winter moon, dancing semi naked on the snowy towpath, and the celebration of the winter dark.

'It all started when Jez arrived with the sack of beans', they all agreed. But after that, everything was a bit of a haze.

Next year they'd find another boat, and toast to the absent Jez. Gem would find another frosty lover to kiss, and they would mix up a different cocktail in honour of their missing friend. The canal would not be iced over this year, but they would still need the warmth of each other, and the joy of Festivus, despite his absence. There were other miracles in life worth celebrating, though they missed him terribly.

In the early hours of the morning, though, they'd look down into the murky depths of the canal and imagine they could see the ruins of the last party there - the broken glasses, the soggy clothes, Jez's welly boots. They would talk about all the ones they had lost on the way, and puzzle over what had happened to their friend.

Gem would make them a warm coffee and bring them out in steaming couplets of mismatched mugs. They laughed and cradled them in cold hands, shouting that it was a miracle, especially the floating marshmellows in the dirty chais. Someone sung a mournful tune by the fire. She wore his spaniel earred hat, one googley eye missing.

'Here you go, loves' she'd say over her own steaming brew. 'Happy Festivus'.