KEY POINTS:
Dear Virginia, Santa is a myth - you are here because your parents had sex!"
And on it went, the Christmas burble of a good friend, an Australian journalist, who with the rest of the household indulged himself in one glorious day painting " graffiti" over the wallpaper of my Wellington house just before the "gibbers" arrived on Boxing Day some 21 years ago.
The younger members of the household could not believe their luck.
Usually constrained to drawing on rolls of white paper, they joined in the fun as we created messages for posterity (well at least for the later generations who might enjoy "our house" long after we had moved on).
I had forgotten about the day we made our own version of a time capsule.
But as we replaced some damaged gib the other day, in the latest - and dare I say "God, please my last" - renovation, there they were. The newspaper clippings we had inserted under the gib - David Lange in his heyday. The fiery slogans I had written myself - I must still have been rather lefty back then.
I'm not sure whether it was my own son, or the son of a neighbour, who scrawled "Computer hackers will rule the world" next to the fireplace.
But it brought back memories of the time police combed our neighbourhood looking for links to the schoolboys known as the "Kelburn hackers", who were given a talking to, and the big cost of buying that first PC, which I, the journalist, never got to use.
But I must confess I got quite cut up when the "I love Mum", "and Dad too", was uncovered.
What fun we must have had that day.
The builder couldn't understand why we had left "all this paper" there.
"You should get rid of it" he said as he pulled down big grey shards of graffitied paper from the walls before I had a chance to say "Stop".
He couldn't understand why I still wanted to hold on to it.
It's tradition in our house, I said.
The original owner, a Mr Maudsley, described on the title documents as a "gentleman from Wellington", had left plenty of reminders of his own sojourn (the 1900s to 1930s).
The gloriously decadent red fabric wallpapers in the old downstairs dining room, fancy blue friezes at the top of the hallway walls. Light green floral coverings in the airy upstairs bedroom his daughter occupied.
Bits of them are still there buried under the layers of subsequent makeovers.
I never met the determinedly "Miss" Maudsley who was the second owner of "our house".
It was Miss Maudsley, who on inheriting the residence ripped out the Edwardian fireplaces, the fancy scotias, and elaborate plaster ceiling in favour of a modern art deco interior: Polished floors. No rugs. Cream tiled fireplaces. Mirrored mantles. No scotia.
How daring it must have seemed.
She later converted the place into two apartments to provide income to fund her travels.
Miss Maudsley - according to a local doctor who rented the downstairs apartment from her - gave great parties.
It's another one of the traditions of "our house".
I used to gasp in admiration when the Dwyers next door told tales about how they could hear her clipping up the outside stairs to her top floor "digs" - in her 80s! - coming back from one of her many European trips.
The stairs were steep.
You wouldn't be allowed to build them these days under our mind-bogglingly absurd resource consent rules.
It was Miss Maudsley who left her own graffiti in the form of the splotches all over the vivid green painted floor she had converted into her upstairs art studio. And the elegant signature she had painted on one layer of wallpaper.
This was covered over by the ghastly mismatched end-runs the subsequent property company owner used to tart the place up before filling it full of students - two to three beds to a room - for the mere four years they had our house.
Thankfully, neither Miss Maudsley (who had excellent taste) nor the property company (which didn't) touched the elegant rimu skirtings or the wonderful doors which the original owner must have been so proud of.
I've kept one of her fireplaces - even though it doesn't match the elegant burnished cast-iron registers I am now installing.
It's tradition in "our house".
"Our house" will once again be filled with friends and family tomorrow.
We're all so much older now - but I'm planning another fun time as we insert photos of loved ones, pages from today's special good cheer edition of the Herald, and some new ( hopefully) witty graffiti underneath the new gib.
I might add some columns about the Great Parliamentary Spending Raid but (mostly) the messages will be upbeat just like the column I have been assigned to write at this special time of the year.
Have a great Christmas and outstanding New Year.
