Crashing Christmas


It was 11pm and a text came through. An address, followed seconds later by a simple word: NOW.

I was with The Ranga at Black Pearl, wondering what to do next having just finished a cocktail that tasted like a pear stuck in a chimney, and one heavy on the Encyclopedia Britannica flavour.  We popped the um-ber-ella-ella and braved #stormageddon, heading down Napier with a bag of goon we bought from The Evelyn bottle-o.

It was obvious from two blocks away WHERE THE PARTY AT. Christmas lights, decorations and merriment was shining brightly from yonder dwelling and we (didn’t knock but simply) opened the door to see a crowd of party-people, arms linked, singing Savage Garden in perfect harmony beneath a roof of Xmas heaven.

The party host – who we met mid-Vanessa Amorosi track –  had spent a month mathematically calculating the pattern of 4,000 Christmas lights across his roof, and 2,000 precisely-spaced baubles.

There was nothing left to do but dance to 90’s pop music beneath the glorious plastic stars, as a thousand tonnes of storm rained down upon the houses of Melbourne.

Merry Christmas to all and to all I hope you also can crash a Christmas party as good as Napiermas.


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