I woke early on the last day of the year and immediately kissed a lemon, briefly, by way of goodbye.

Before going to the beach I enhanced my penis with a lemon, pushing it into the front of my speedos and admiring the absurd bulge. Then I walked along Fitzroy street without trousers and set myself up on the sand. It was my first outdoor swim of the summer; soon I was distracted from the fruit by the sea.

I added a lemon to the front gate of a home around the corner, pushing it down over its central spike. Other parts of the gate were decorated in baubles. The effect was harmonious.

I took a lemon to a public carwash, inserted a coin and attacked the fruit with the high-pressure hose. I also played with the foaming brush, scrubbing at the lemon until it was ready to be rinsed and waxed.

In the ornamental garden at Bendigo's Golden Dragon Museum I fed shards of lemon peel to the fish. They appeared to love it, swimming around and across each other to gulp at the pieces. Some of the lemon was regurgitated then swallowed by a second fish, even a third, but in the end it was all swallowed.

On Boxing Day I made a punching bag from a green lemon attached to a rubber band. It was an effective tool for exercise, and bounced back rhythmically, until a split in the fruit made it fall.

I was surnburnt, on Christmas Day, so cooled my skin with a slice of lemon, pushing its juice across my elbows and forearms.

Having looped a rubber band through the end of a lemon I affixed it to the Christmas tree in the lounge-room of my friend. Then I added the other decorations.

For the Christmas Eve feast I prepared santa-shaped treats from melted white chocolate, lemon essence and finely-grated lemon rind. When I took them from the fridge and popped them from their molds the chocolates had an eerie glow-in-the-dark sheen. The next evening, by candlelight, they were exquisite.

Candying lemons takes large quantities of time, persistence and sugar. I found myself with all of these a few days before Christmas, so set about removing peel from fruit, and pith from peel, then stirring the coloured strips through a 50/50 mixture of sugar and water, over heat. After an hour the peel had turned transparent. I took it out of the syrup and rolled it through yet more sugar before tasting a single mind-blowing slice. Season's Greetings!

Using an interactive display at ACMI's Screen World's exhibition Rosie and I created a five-second film featuring a fast-moving lemon, which we then converted into a fifty-page flipbook. In it, a lemon shoots in from the left, then moves back from the right, then hurtles spookily towards the camera.

I pushed a peach seed into a lemon and covered the breach with peel. Then I planted the hybrid fruit in a Footscray front garden, and watered it.

I used the wooden golf club I'd found on the street to strike lemons along a laneway. Almost all of them exploded on impact, decorating the bluestone with streaks of yellow.

Games at my staff Christmas party included frisbee, football and lemon frisbee, which lasted until the slice broke up, perfuming our hands.

It would appear that birds dislike lemons. Meg's budgerigars were interested in themselves, each other and everything in the cage that wasn't the huge lemon that I'd balanced between their perch and the wire. Did it scare them?

With blue card, lemon card, silver ink and a slice of lemon I constructed greetings cards for friends. The lemon took the ink very nicely, and printed prettily enough. "Season's Greetings" I scrawled in silver, then wrote personalised messages in black.

In the park I took my shoes off and started spinning, fixing my eyes on the lemon in my right hand. Everything blurred except the lemon and a fly. It took a while for things to reassemble.

In a shot glass I mixed two-thirds rum to one-third lemon juice, and skulled it. Julien insisted that they did something like this in the Dominican Republic. In any case, the combination worked for me. Refill.

I tested an expensive sanitary napkin by squeezing a lemon over it and watching for leaks. It was a first, for me, holding up the pad and watching the liquid disappear like magic.

At the shopping centre a person dressed as Santa was handing out sweets from a basket. I approached with a lemon and placed it among the treats. "A healthy option," I explained. Santa said something like "ho ho ho" and offered me a chocolate by way of exchange.