Any fool can make history, but it takes a genius to write it.

Christmas in Australia means many things - backyard cricket, prawn salads, a quick game of "throw the dart at Grandma" - but most of all, Christmas means parsurfing. As you can see by this picture of two parasurfers on Christmas day here on Bellerive beach here (on Hobart's Eastern Shore, with Mount Wellington in the background), parasurfing is to Christmas what rabbits are to Easter!

Ever since the First Fleet arrived in this great southern land oh so many years ago, the fusion of sail and surf has been a Christmas tradition. Convicts - bored with digging holes and breaking larger stones into smaller stones - utilised their Christmas break by taking to the skies like a seagull in heat.

From 1788 onwards, convicts could be seen every summer parasurfing up and down the coast, fanny packs [snigger snigger] filled to the brim with prawns, morton bay bugs, seal pups and penguins. Taking advantage of the speed and dexterity that is granted by the wind, these wily criminals supplemented their daily dose of gruel and maggot-water with all of the bounty that can be found in the Tasmanian seas.

From the the tradition has continued down through the generations, so that every Christmas day you can see mothers and fathers strapping in their babies and letting them fly off with the breeze. The kids just love it!