I am spending this weekend with my parents in Sydney. I've not seen them since Easter and that equals almost four months without their eccentricities and salivating home cooking.

As soon as we got home from the airport last night, my mother put the kettle on. As I stood there waiting for the water to boil, she informed me that the water in the kettle was off limits but there was enough hot water in the thermos for me to make tea.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as she started to concoct a strange mix of green herbs with Indian henna dye.

"I take sick days for the next three days you here," she said while beating an egg into the mixture. "I need to dye my ankle to look like a bruise. Tomorrow I go doctors, look real and I get medical certificate."

"Why can't you pretend to have a cold? Or a migraine?"

"Not severe enough," she said with an air of experience. "Here, help me bind my ankle. Make the strapping tight."