Pink Ukulele and Y are enjoying a holiday in Lebanon at the moment, and will be there for another few weeks. Normally, email correspondences relate tales of chicken, and garlic and other Lebanese specialities, which make the mouth water, and I think about taking a trip there ourselves sometime, when the timing is right.  The second paragraph of an email I received yesterday morning was an unpleasant surprise:

One minor hiccup to inform you of - we were in a car accident last night but everyone is fine. We had been out at a local village (eating) and Y's uncle  was driving back to their mountain home at about 2am. His wife was in the front and Y and I were in the back. We were driving down the side of a mountain and the road was quite slippery with an oil spill from a previous accident, and all of a sudden an ambulance smashed into our car.

It's all good news; no one had any injuries, except for the car, which is repairable and replaceable.

I know that something like this could just as easily happen here in Australia, and the thought crosses my mind briefly of something my grandfather said, many years ago when my mother was involved in a very serious car accident, from which she did recover, but it was touch and go for several days. Grandpa had said: "If only she hadn't been coming back from ..., this never would have happened".  In the context of a person growing up in an isolated rural community, with his youngest daughter's life in the balance, only a few short years since the death of my grandmother, this feeling can be understood.

I hope that I can always be encouraging of those that I care about in their endeavours, and in living the dreams and doing what they feel that they must do. Finding themselves in less than safe localities, at least by Australian standards, whether living, working or holidaying is something that is their decision to make, not mine.

"If you love something, set it free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were." Jonathan Bach

Just take care...

The current heat wave brings some reminiscences of previous summers. It's hard to imagine  in this time of water restrictions and global warming, that we were once allowed to frolic on lawns with the garden hose, in our bathers, screeching as the blast of cold water hit us unexpectedly.

Dips in the farm dam, but only after 5pm when the heat of the day was just beginning to dissipate, and supervised by our long suffering mother.

Icy poles, home made ice cream and home made lemon cordial.

Later on, in the Western District; fish dinners (with redfin from the farm dams) chips and salad, followed by mulberry topped cheesecake. (The mulberries were from the tree in our orchard)

Our girls enjoyed splashing in our paddle pool on the lawn, which mysteriously sprung a leak one summer.

Much later I found out that Pink Ukulele had bitten a hole in it, pretending that she was a crocodile..., but by the time I found out, it was too late to contemplate anything but having a good laugh!

Seems like I spend quite a bit of time thinking about the weather, but, after all, it is Melbourne, and we often have four seasons in one day.

On a similar theme, the investigation into food intolerance and allergies continue, with clear culprit in the diet being yeast, and yeast containing products. I don't eat that much bread, normally, except as toast in the morning, and the occasional mid night snack, so it hasn't been too much of a hardship to give it up, and there are some suitable substitutes, so that I have occasionally been able to enjoy poached or scrambled eggs on yeast free bread such as sour dough. I would have sandwiches for lunch maybe once a year, when all other choices on the cafeteria are unacceptable, so it's not too bad.

The days that I really notice it are those when I've been shopping, and I go past one of the bakery chain stores, where they bake all day, and the delicious aroma of baking bread wafts through the shopping centre. I know I can't just go and buy a Danish, or a yeast bun, as in days gone by, because I don't want to deal with the consequences. Indeed, in my family there has been a long tradition of buying some fresh bakery goods like a Boston bun or a coffee scroll when doing the weekly grocery shopping, so that has just had to stop. As has the occasional breakfast treat of croissants, or just going out for the big breakfast at one of the local cafes. (Mushrooms, another of my favourites, are also on the do not eat list, as is wine, beer, yeast extracts, and anything with yeast extracts in them, such as stock powders)

The good thing is, there are lots of other choices, and I know that removing yeast from the diet has worked, evidenced by a return of more severe symptoms when it is re-introduced.

Tummy upsets are not pleasant at the best of times, and I spent most of the day at home, sleeping the afternoon away...with the two cats keeping me company in bed.

Instead of going out on New Year's Eve, we had dinner at home, a lovely prawn, mango and avocado salad, with Irish Soda Bread.

Before getting the canasta cards out....

Later in the evening, we went out to watch the 9.15 pm fireworks from the banks of the Yarra at Spotswood, and back to the house for more cards.

Before we knew it, it was midnight, so we went upstairs to watch the fireworks, which were more spectacular from our upstairs window than the earlier show.

G & H went outside to watch the fireworks and noticed a couple of party goers heading homewards, but sadly did not get a photo of the two guys who were strolling along, completely naked in our suburban street at 12 am...

Christmas Eve was one of those busy days, a trip to Queen Victoria Market, to pick up supplies for the Christmas Day Feast, a visit to the supermarket for some last minute things, finishing wrapping the gifts, the arrival of visitors, then out to friends for Christmas Eve dinner. A relaxing evening, and fun to see the excitement of small children opening their presents, then putting them aside, for the next package. Good food, and excellent company, and as I am still on a diet without wine, a sober one! 11 pm service at the chapel at my old school, then home by 12:45 am.

Yesterday, with a guest list of 17 for lunch, I had planned for a later sit down than normal at 2 pm, and a roast turkey buffet was cooked to perfection with the aid 250g of butter, seasoned with thyme and lemon rind, pressed into the space between the breast meat and the skin. A leg of lamb, two roast chickens, several kilos of prawns, some schnicken (chicken schnitzels), roast potatoes, cauliflower cheese and salads completed the main course, very happily. An icecream later for those who wanted one, was the dessert of preference, although I had plum pudding on hand.

Then a very long session of Skype on a call from France. It was such fun to see the members of our extended family on the screen, albeit blurry, and with the occasional delays as the screen was refreshed, and lags as voices caught up with the pictures. Fun to see KylieMac, too, and it would be such fun for all of us to gather once again. Maybe in August. I do feel sad that we can't be together for special days, but when you can take part in a hilarious group conversation over that distance for nothing, then it does make up for it in part.

Boxing Day (26th December) is always a quiet one. I felt no need to hit the post Christmas Sales, instead, a sleep in, leftovers for lunch and a visit to the chickens and PU and Y and we have returned home this evening ready for a light meal and quiet evening before the weekend starts.

And I can contemplate another week off work before heading back on the fifth. Yaaaay!

Post script: I cannot believe I made a typo- with 17 for lunch being entered as one!

 When I was growing up in the North west of Victoria, in my memory, at least, the summer was always hot, Dad was always busy with harvest, and we children were busy in the final weeks running up to the end of the school year, rehearsing for the annual primary school concert, held at a local hall, and the Christmas Eve service at our local church.

In hot weather, if my Mum had been shopping, fresh tomato sandwiches made with white bread, made a quick meal when the house was too hot to cook something.

Dad being persuaded to cut a pine tree branch to serve as a Christmas Tree, a couple of days before Christmas. Not for us a manicured tree in perfect shape, rather a lower hanging branch which was always in an odd shape, which we twisted and turned to find the best looking side for displaying the Christmas tinsel. For some reason, I seem to remember strings of coloured popcorn, which we never ate because after they had hung for a few days they were soft and unpalatable.

Mum baking up a storm, biscuits cut into festive shapes, like stars, bells and angels decorated with coloured icing, hundreds and thousands, silver cachous. Mum's yo-yo recipe, which she used to pipe through a biscuit maker, into beautiful shapes. Loaded with butter, and icing sugar, the dough was so delicious it could be eaten raw.

Vignettes from those concerts stick in my mind, years later, including my school mate R, who having learnt a couple of songs on the ukulele, came on stage, strummed a couple of times, and stopped and paused, saying "Excuse me, Mr W..., this ukulele is out of tune..."

For some reason, the audience erupted with laughter, and the concert continued on after the instrument was tuned, in extremely good humour. Whether the audience thought that the interlude was scripted, which my Dad said he thought it was, or whether it was the idea that surprisingly, an eight year old boy with no obvious musical talent could recognise the instrument was not tuned correctly, I have no idea, but it lives on in my memory, even if no one else remembers it.

The climax of the School concert was the whole school, some 20-25 pupils on stage, singing "Jingle Bells" at the top of their voices, again and again, for what seemed like an eternity, until Santa Claus arrived, on the back of a fire truck, or a motor bike, with a sack of goodies, and a present for every child.

Supper after the concert was always a triumph of country hospitality: sandwiches, sausage rolls, egg and bacon pies, cream puffs, chocolate éclairs, sponge cakes, lemon meringue pies, fairy bread...

All too soon, the evening was over, as all the children piled into family cars for the trip home, barely able to keep our eyes open, as we contemplated being a year older, and a step higher in our school pecking order.

The weekend began inauspiciously, with the drive home from work on Friday night, even after leaving work after 6pm, a slow one,  due to the start of  a wet weekend, when it rained continuously from Friday afternoon through to Sunday morning, and more than 80 mm of rain in some places. The rain on Friday night meant no taxis were available, and I couldn't even get the one who pulled up in our street, dropping a neighbour off, to take me to Flemington, because he already had another fare. If I was more cunning I would have offered him cash on the spot...

It is a really good thing that I am gradually getting better- this allergy testing regime is certainly resulting in an improvement in my health. This meant that I was able to enjoy an extremely busy weekend...with dinner Friday night at an Irish Pub in Flemington, Saturday: Brunch in Croydon for a friend's birthday, and dinner in Ballarat for G's b-i-l's 50^th; Christmas Shopping on Sunday, and our lovely neighbours over for a few drinks and dinner on Sunday evening. Yes, I am a bit tired today, but not exhausted, as I would have been a few weeks ago.

There is good news and bad news on the food intolerance challenge: yeast appears to be another cause of tingling itchiness, and this means that for at least the short to medium term, I am going to have to stay off anything with baker's yeast in: red and white wine, champagne, breads, dried fruits and mushrooms. Yes, there are a lot of items there that I would eat or drink on a very regular basis, so there is some hardship involved, but it could be worse., and at least I now know what to avoid.

There is only one thing to do: get on to the hard liquor...

But the prospect of not being able to eat real baguettes is more than a little disappointing.

After a disturbed night, when music would not soothe, and Coco kept getting up and down, five thirty came around at the usual time, but it sure felt like much earlier. I stayed in bed, resolving to get up an hour later, get dressed, and head straight into work, to enjoy breakfast there, rather than at home.

Before I had a chance to get out of bed, my mobile rang, a colleague alerting me to a road accident on the Monash which was sure to result in delayed travel. I went back to bed to catch some extra shuteye, stirring later, with the idea of leaving around nine, and missing the majority of the traffic jams. A check of the vicroads traffic updates, and radio updates before nine and the decision was made to work from home instead.

This is the third day in a row where there have been major disruptions to peak hour traffic. Usually, I travel early enough to avoid most problems, but not today.

The benefit of working from home is that there are less interruptions, but less interaction with work mates. Result, more work done, but less fun... and some frustration as the wireless connection keeps dropping out.

Lunchtime brings on the next of my food challenges after the elimination diet, as possible food suspects gradually get added. The thought of eating plain baker's yeast does not appeal at all. But, surprisingly, I am able to consume half a packet, mixed with half of a large banana. Not so bad, after all. Just not on the list of preferred foods.

At the weekend, all going well, tomato can be added, then next week citrus fruit, chilli and spices and finally varieties of nuts, one at a time.

Coco is very pleased to have someone from her human family at home, but loses patience after a while with not being able to get on a knee.

The street is not quiet, construction noise from the new build two houses down provides a background hum, as the contracters hurry to finish everything off before Christmas.

A trip to our chiller warehouse in the afternoon to inspect some product in -10 degrees C temperature provides an interesting interlude in an otherwise quiet day.

It is with some excitement that I can announce that prawns, (and other shellfish, too) are back on the menu...

It was with some trepidation that I ate the prawns at lunchtime, yesterday, under strict medical instructions that I could eat them for dinner if there were no reactions from lunch....

No reactions mean I am also going to have the leftovers for lunch today...

The method of cooking them is still pretty simple, at least for a couple of weeks, while I progressively introduce other foodstuffs that are possible causes of the problem...

Mmmmm...yum.

It has been pointed out to me that two months abstinence is hardly a long time...

It is if you're in my shoes...

I spent more than five hours this morning, going through the motions of testing for allergies. There are limited things to do in a waiting room when you have nurses putting drops of minute quantities of allergens under your tongue, every 15 minutes or so.

In a way, I can't really comprehend that it's me in there, when I have had so many years without apparent problems. But, any thought that it was a waste of time was shown on the very first test, with tongue tingling and numbness, progressing to feeling quite unwell for a higher dose down the track.

I suppose it is good news to know that there is a kind of mould that produces a reaction- I don't know enough about it to know where a mould/ fungus like this might grow. Perhaps it is in the air conditioning, or maybe the bathroom. Time will tell.

As my health was improving, it is worth progressing with the next step of the elimination diet. This means, tomorrow I am going to try prawns for lunch, after going without them for the last two months. If the first meal goes well, I can also have them for dinner....Yaaay!

Then, a progressive testing or challenge over the course of a couple of weeks, and I hope to have most of my favourite foods back on the menu, in time for Christmas.

Later in the morning, the radio in the background announced the death of the Women's Gold Medallist in the Marathon at two Commonwealth Games, at the age of 41, after a brave battle with breast cancer. Even now, I can still recall the dour struggle as she fought back, again and again, finally crossing the finish line at the Melbourne Cricket Ground in first place.

My troubles are minor, when I think about the young family left behind and a life cut short.