There's something about a lunch box that's so endearing. As a child, I loved my lunch box and eagerly looked forward to discovering its contents each day - the greater the variety of edible goodies (a sandwich, fruit, a piece of cake, a 'Popper' - that's packaged juice Down Under) the more I relished 'little lunch' and 'big lunch'. Unlike my playmates who delighted in the days to come when our mothers got too busy to prepare our lunches and we could spend our cents at the tuck shop (a 'canteen' in Australia) on meat pies, sausage rolls, cream buns, chocolate eclairs, and Sunny Boys (I'll let you look that one up), I missed the lunch box days. As an adult I've enjoyed prepping for long journeys on the road, whether it was stashing away a bottle of Pisco and local snacks from the market for long South American bus rides as a backpacker, or more recently on road trips with my husband, making a thermos of tea in the morning and stocking up on muesli bars for the car. One of the things I most enjoyed about skiing (before my husband took up snowboarding and I dedicated myself to imbibing mulled wine by fireplaces in grand old European hotels) was prepping little bags of chocolates, nuts and dried fruit that we'd nibble on while savoring spectacular mountain vistas. And while I'm increasingly disappointed by airline food, I must admit I enjoy opening the little containers and checking everything out. So I was delighted to receive not one but two lunch boxes on our recent trek in Thailand, the first of which I showed you yesterday, and the second pictured today. While it seemed odd eating the contents of this one, cross-legged on the bamboo floor of a hut in a hill tribe village, with its white bread ham sandwich (with the crusts cut off!), chicken drumstick, fruit, and chocolate cake, for a few moments there it transported me back to my childhood and suburban Australia in the 70s. Who ever could have thought a lunch box could take me travelling?