As an Australian, I was shocked to come across the above scene in my local neighbourhood. Beautiful pure fresh drinking water was being used simply to hose away some rubbish from the Farmers’ Markets. I wonder what my friends back in Australia, some of them having to rely solely on tank water, would think of such an allocation of resources.

During some summer months, Stage 4 water restrictions have been imposed in many Australian cities including Chiltern, Bendigo, Albury, and even Melbourne. These restrictions include:

Residential and Commercial Gardens and Lawns

All outside watering is banned. No watering at any time, by any means.

Public Gardens and Lawns

All outside watering is banned. No watering at any time, by any means.

Sporting Grounds

All outside watering is banned. No watering at any time, by any means.

Paving, concrete and other hard surfaces

Hosing banned except for construction purposes or in emergency; or for health or safety hazard.

Vehicles

A vehicle may only be washed for health and safety reasons, in which case the windows and lights must be washed and rinsed by means of a bucket, filled directly from the tap (not by hose). Commercial car washes which use water from a source other than your local water corporation reticulated water system can be used.

Residential or Commercial Pools and Spas

Cannot be filled, added to or replaced without prior written approval. Can be topped up by bucket only.

A very different world. I am glad that over here I can indulge in a long hot bath every night, rather than a quick shower with a constant eye on the two minute egg timer.

Today, on November 23 2010, Frank Fenner passed away at the age of 95. I first met him when he was 87, still an emeritus professor at the Australian National University and routinely attending lectures and scientific meetings. He was a great inspiration.

When he was in his 20s he worked with Macfarlane Burnet at WEHI in Melbourne to understand the incubation periods of infections such as smallpox, measles and chickenpox. After a stint at the NY Rockefeller institute, he became the first Professor of Bacteriology at the newly established ANU.

He successfully introduced the lethal myxomatosis pox virus into the overwhelming feral rabbit population, thus dramatically reducing the burden on Australian native plants and animals. When some members of the public were concerned about the risk of this virus for humans, he and his colleagues publicly injected themselves with myxoma virus to demonstrate its safety. In 1977, he was elected the chairman of the WHO Global Commission for the Certification of Smallpox Eradication, and in 1980 addressed to World Health Assembly and declared that smallpox had been globally eradicated.

I have a signed copy of his book “The John Curtin School of Medical Research: the First Fifty Years, 1948-1998″ on my bookshelf, and I am grateful for the years that he and I worked as scientists together in the same building. He has left a lasting impact on all of humankind.

Another aspect of Australia that I miss is all the birdlife. Over here all we have are pigeons, crows, and a few feral parrots.

Back in Australia, I was surrounded by the most exquisite feathered creatures. I could wake to the melodious warble of a magpie or the cacophony of one hundred shrill sulphur-crested cockatoos. Walking past some bushes, I would smile at the antics of the promiscuous fairywrens, while pairs of plovers called to each other as they watched over their young. Perhaps a Kokaburra’s echo would sound from above. I would look up from my work to find two rainbow lorikeets in the tree outside, merrily nibbling of the tender shoots at the top.

One bird that I don’t miss is the Emu. Whenever we went to a nature reserve they would run up to me with their beady eyes and sharp beaks. They would stare straight into my eye, and terrorise me until I surrendered my picnic lunch. At least that is a threat that is less common over this side of the world.

People often ask me what I miss about Australia. During these dark winter nights, something I notice myself yearning for is to look up into the sky and see the Milky Way shining down upon me.

Walking through the quiet streets of Canberra, I would spend hours looking into the centre of our galaxy. It was almost impossible to comprehend that each tiny dot was a giant fiery ball of gas, and the light had traveled for tens, hundreds, millions of years to reach us. It reminded me what a small blue sphere the earth was, and often helped put the issues of the day into perspective.

With each passing season, the constellations would once again greet me like old friends returning from a long journey. Comical Orion, standing on his head while watching Sirius chase Lepus. Antares, the angry red eye of Scorpio blazing beneath a curled tail ready to strike. And always the Southern Cross, lighting the way and giving direction.

There is no wonder that only countries from the Southern Hemisphere (Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Niue, Papua New Guinea, Samoa, and Tokelau) feature constellations on their flags. In Europe, the stars are seldom glimpsed, and when they are, it is a view out into the dark emptiness beyond our own galaxy, so unlike the brilliant splash of light of the Milky Way.

Photo from cosmic diary