Perhaps before the call I was about to cry. Is it permitted to think I need an easier life? Self indulgent.

I spend my nights in a post apocalyptic world and it's increasingly hard to stay there. Each morning I look at the place where the bookmark cuts the bulk of pages and wonder how I can possibly push on, perhaps in the same way they wonder how to tackle the road. But still it's a world where I grew up. This time a world where people in a basement are kept as food, eaten to the hip. No wonder we're the angsty generation.

In the background Julie Bishop. Peter Costello returns to the front bench?

I freeze from the back and feel guilt for using the air conditioning.