it was my mum’s last day in sydney, and i asked what she would like to do. “would you like to go into the city to buy shoes?” i asked. “no,” she replied, “it is my last day, and i will do anything you like.”

so we caught a bus and a train, and not too much later, arrived in auburn just in time for lunch. the kid, having had the presence of mind to assemble a backpack of train snacks — jellybeans, raisins and dried pineapple, a previously decapitated gingerbread man (thank you, biscuit tree!), a pink lady apple (my addition) — wasn’t too hungry, but was happy to play along.

we claimed a table at sofra, and spent too long by the rotisserie deciding which shish kebabs we wanted. minced lamb? or chunks? chicken?? the salads were much easier: clean and crunchy red cabbage, a pool of creamy hommos, and tumble of fried (and charred) potato, eggplant, cauliflower and broccoli. oh, it was a pleasing feast.

and left room — just barely, after a postprandial meander through the bargain emporiums for a bout of scumbag shopping — for a good few scoops of dondurma down the road at mado. we bought turkish delights and sweet sticky cakes, and just before catching the express train back to the city, my mum bought shoes.

– – –

this morning at the airport, my grandmother, my aunt and i collectively gasped in horror, when my mother unzipped her carry-on to reveal her newly purchased, still-in-its-box electric carving knife.

“why have you put that in that bag?” asked my grandmother. at 88, she is still pretty sharp.

“ma, my suitcase was too full,” replied my mum, who on a good day is still not quite as quick. she rummaged for a pen, or something.

they repeated the exchange a couple more times before we spelled it out for my mum: y.o.u. c.a.n.t. b.r.i.n.g. k.n.i.v.e.s. o.n. t.he. p.l.a.n.e. she glanced over at the check-in counter; her suitcase had trundled down the conveyor belt not five minutes before. insert: chortle chortle guffaw.

i left my mum at the the airport with the glinting blade in my backpack, and the emasculated motor packed snug in her case. they will be reunited one day, when we are.