When I was a child, I would have been quite happy living on fish'n'chips, baked beans, Galaxy Bars and peas. Unfortunately for me, my parents had discovered the "Cordon Bleu" series of cook books and they were off. It still is remarkable to me how I managed to look, in the kind words of my mother, like "a fairy elephant", even as I was consistantly revolted by their gastronomical accomplishments.

The week-ends were the worst. They had time to delve deeper into the mysterious and foreign recipes. Although I was quite happy dipping toast into a soft boiled egg, I put my foot down at Quiche Lorraine. Translated as egg pie, it sounded downright dangerous. Not being very fond of vegetables, my stomache lurched at Ratatouille. They had actually managed to concoct a dish that contained all of my least favourite vegetables. Unless you counted pickled beets, string beens and any others they might spring on me momentarily.

My mother, having made me stare at my plate for hours, week-end after week-end, finally gave in. "We're having Moussaka, Dano, are you going to join us or not?" Not bloody likely! All this happened before I was ten. I should add that I was drinking coffee, albeit milky. For a short while, I was put on the Mayo Clinic Diet, also before the age of ten. This consisted chiefly of boiled eggs, grapefruit and black coffee. Twiggy was big back then and so was I.

Recently, I had a bit of an eye-opener. I was at an art-opening and my friend's three year old had helped herself to a strawberry. Her mother snatched it from her hand, gasping "No! No!" I asked her what on earth was going on and she explained to me that she had to wait and find out if her daughter is allergic to strawberries. I was astounded. How does one find out if the child doesn't eat it? Why not just let her eat everything, or is this a Thing Of The Past and I just don't know it?

It seems, nowadays, that everywhere you turn people are becoming allergic or intolerant to all sorts of things. While it borders on the rediculous, for some people, the danger is very real and can have dire consequences. Lactose intolerance, peanuts, wheat, gluten, animal hair/dander, other peoples opinions, the list goes on and on.

I went to a wedding for my friend "Malachai". His new wife has the Ripley's Believe It Or Not of allergies. Guess. Go on. OK, I know you skipped ahead, so you know it's lemons, but isn't that just freaky? She cannot have anything to do with them. No perfumes, no spritzes in the salad dressing, no Hollandaise sauce, nada. Waiters must just love her when they go out to eat. It is no joke, she has to carry one of those eppy pens with her in case some one fails to mention they rub down their chopping blocks with lemon halves.

When and why did we get so namby-pamby? Maybe it's this hyper-clean vision being sold on TV. Every little mess whisked away with a pre-moisted towlette or mop. Dust is not just removed but repelled (!) by new dusters. Nasty pong in your bathroom? Sanitize the air! Good grief. Maybe if we all just let a little dirt into our lives, not to the level of say, my bedroom, our bodies might be more adaptable. They'd certainly be more relaxed.