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Adelaide, who watched Dr Phil because it was safer than seducing the postie again, was watching Oprah while the Commonwealth Games were on. It meant delaying her lunch by an hour, but that’s the beauty of working from home.

And so it was that she was able to catch up with the man who had brought He’s Just not that into You to the rest of the world. It was a book – a trend, a movement – which had previously passed Adelaide by. As these things so often do.

Adelaide took a spoon of the reheated pasta she was having for lunch as she listened to the women asking this experienced man for his advice.

‘We’ve been running in the mornings for about two months, and he emails me every now and then, but he never asks me out,’ one woman says.

‘Well,’ the man – whose name Adelaide hadn’t quite caught – leaned forward in his seat. Goodness, Adelaide thought. What wise words is going to offer this woman? The man spoke. ‘He’s just not that into you,’ he said.

Oh, Adelaide thought. It seems so brutal, doesn’t it?

She scooped as much mushroom onto her spoon as she could. It was a good decision to buy the small swiss buttons this week. She took another spoon. And she was glad she had changed from Bulgarian to Danish feta this week. It’s hard to break out of shopping ruts, but it’s always worth the effort, she thought.

Adelaide listened to the next couple.

‘He says that he loves me, but he’s not in love with me,’ the woman said.
‘It’s timing as much as anything,’ the man said. ‘I think I want to marry her, but I’m just not sure.’

It was obvious what the author man was going to say. But it was Oprah took Adelaide by surprise.

‘It’s okay to have doubts,’ Oprah said (or something quite close to that). ‘If you’re having doubts it usually means no.’

Oh dear, Adelaide thought. Is this the light bulb moment Oprah was famous for.

‘Remember how yes feels,’ Oprah said (or something quite close to that).

Adelaide looked into her bowl. There was enough for two spoons left. Should she eat the last of the mushrooms first? Or the last of the feta first?

”Yes’ resonates,’ Oprah said.

Oh, Adelaide thought. Could it be as simple as this? Could all the sleepless nights be left behind after just half an episode of Oprah?

What if yes resonates in your heart and your soul and in your very depths. But your brain – which knows all of the dangers – is screaming no?

Adelaide chose the spoon of mushrooms and chewed them slowly, waiting for the ads to come on.

She couldn’t wait for the Commonwealth Games to finish. Dr Phil never made Adelaide think like this.

In the last little while, Adelaide had opened a letter from Port Power reminding her the first game of the season (the real season, we don’t count that pre-season rubbish) was just around the corner, and a thrill had pulsed through her veins.

She had taken her youngest child to a gym-type thing where together they had balanced on beams and bounced on trampolines.

She had been to school athletics and helped to teach five year olds how to fling a discus.

And she had watched several hours of the Commonwealth Games.

And it was strange for Adelaide to have her days filled with sport, because Adelaide was the kind of athlete who had been picked third to last at school games (she couldn’t run, or hit or catch, but she didn’t have bugs).

Adelaide was the kind of athlete who won best team player because she volunteered to stand out when her netball team made the finals.

Adelaide went to possibly the only school in the world with a house colour of purple. And Adelaide was the kind of athlete who had been the direct target of the chant purple’s as slow as a turtle. More than once, more than twice, more than thrice.

Adelaide’s mother had offered Adelaide this as consolation: we are the only ones who get to be in the race and watch it too.

Like much of Adelaide’s mother’s wisdom it was good for a laugh at dinner parties, but useless when you were ten.

In what Adelaide believes is a unique experience…liveblogging the South Australian election (although Adelaide isn’t sure what liveblogging actually means).

ABC 891 is off to a shaky start. Hello? Yes, boys, it is the evening. Tim Noonan out at South Australia’s most marginal seat.

Adelaide makes a big call: either Vini or Nigel will win (remember you heard it here first).

And it’s still the eminently watchable Michael Smyth on the television (from what Adelaide can hear over the top of the Hungry Hippos – Adelaide asks, not for the first time, how can greatness be achieved?).

Adelaide is still disappointed that Antony Green can’t be with South Australia this evening. Apparently, things will be more interesting down there in Tasmania.

broadcast interrupted to stop children jumping on each other’s backs – Circus Oz had seemed like a good idea at the time

!!In a serious blunder never made on election night before, Adelaide realises she has already finished the last of the wine, leaving only (red) bubbles in the fridge.

Adelaide predicts: the liveblog will end in a mess. Adelaide has, at least, fed herself (and her family of course).

Anthony Green’s voice can be heard, but it is 6.23 and he has nothing useful to say.

Kerry O’Brien has arrived. Adelaide’s husband will be home soon. Two Chrises on the radio. Kevin Foley and Nick Minchin on the television – Adelaide is hard-pressed to pick the difference between the two. Adelaide searches for glasses, but nothing becomes any clearer. Dean Jeansch is there too.

6.34
First figures in. 1.1%
Enfield – Green vote strong. Slight swing to the Libs according to Chris Pyne.
Collinswood – 239 votes counted.

We are not at the business end of the evening, Adelaide reminds herself.

Dean Jeansch talks about the .1% counted in Stuart, and Gunn is looking good. Adelaide says: too early to call.

erm…Adelaide notes that hers is the lone female voice commenting on this election…and no one can hear hers. Adelaide struggles with the cork on the bubbles.

Chris Pyne’s scrutineer rings in. The Brighton booth (in Bright) has been won by Chloe Fox. A swing of 11% to the ALP. Chris Schacht has a note of urgency in his voice. Chris Pyne says it doesn’t sound good. CS says the ALP hasn’t won that booth for twenty years. Adelaide concedes that Possum Magic is a good book. The radio is interviewing Chloe Fox.

On the television, Dean Jeansch is telling Kerry why they haven’t got the results from the metropolitan results yet and they can’t comment on Bright. Adelaide wonders isn’t anyone in the television studio listening to the radio?

Still, the thing about television is that you can see Vini resplendent in pink, but we have no idea what Chloe Fox was wearing.

6.52
Adelaide calls it: Labour to win. It’s a Rann-slide.

Adelaide publishes to make it official.

(part two)
Adelaide’s husband has returned. Hooray. With some effort, he gets the cork off the bottle. ‘You win the prize,’ Adelaide’s children yell.

Meanwhile on the television, they are talking about Chaffey. Someone needs to tell Foley how to pronounce that woman’s name. Given that she’s going to be in Cabinet.

Wonder what the ALP backbenchers think about her place in Cabinet, Nick Minchin asks (not unreasonably).

Of course, looks aren’t everything in a political commentator, but Adelaide believes that a man with a beard should also have a moustache (note: Adelaide is not wearing pearls).

Still no word on Unley, Adelaide notes, and what a pity that we don’t know anything about the Upper House.

Vini appears to be holding Norwood. Which is a pity, because if Nigel Smart won, Adelaide had intended to write ‘and who said an arts degree didn’t get you anywhere’.

Adelaide sets herself a task:
Describe the difference between Nick Minchin and Kevin Foley in 25 words or less. Kevin Foley goes for Power?

News on Unley. People will vote for Vini and not Michael Keenan? Adelaide shakes her head.

Adelaide receives notice that she has had stunning ebay win (mild compensation for having lost on a Trixie Belden auction earlier in the day).

Stunning revelation of the night:
Angus Redford what happened? Why did you lose?
Angus Redford: I didn’t get enough votes.

Matthew Abraham makes a Possum magic joke about an hour after Adelaide first made it. How ace is this blog? How cutting edge? How on the ball?

Adelaide can not keep up with the radio and the television, and wishes that she had wireless which worked.

Adelaide publishes the post. Is this how liveblogging works?

(part three)
Congratulations to you-know-who and to her magic, magic team. And to people who might have stuffed envelopes for her in the past.

7.51
It’s all over, and there’s still half a bottle of red bubbles to go. The wise thing would be to leave them where they are.

Hartley is swinging, and Nick Minchin is looking glum.

This is objective coverage, so Adelaide makes no comment.

Leon Bignell has won with a slogan of ticketty-boo. South Australian politics at its best.

8.06
Adelaide teaches her child to sms.

Joan Hall has lost! Adelaide wonders whether she heard right.

Nick Minchin is looking even more glum. Chris Pyne is sounding glum.

Adelaide – who knows a thing or two about Stuart – isn’t sure how she feels about that being Lib retain. Should election night make your heart ache? Grief is a complex beast.

Oh. There’s Dominique Schwartz. A rather credible female voice. Perhaps more credible than Adelaide’s.

Adelaide posts.

(part four)
erm, that bloke who stood against Dorothy Kotz will be embarrassed about this interview when he hears it again.

Paraphrased:
I’m just some bloke who found a good electorate.

Do you have anything else to offer the electorate?

Well, we’ll see over the next four years…to be honest I never thought I’d win.

Adelaide predicts that fella is up for media and communications induction on Monday afternoon at the latest.

Adelaide’s husband asks for the remote.

Oh no! Jane Lomax-Smith has just said ‘we’ve sung from the same song sheet’. Adelaide bangs her head on her keyboard and then on her desk and then on her kitchen bench.

Nick Xenophon might get two up. That little map of SA in the middle of his forehead obviously worked (yes, Adelaide wishes she were liveblogging from Tassie right now). Adelaide had considered that little map of SA to be a little Hansonesque, but what would Adelaide know?

Adelaide’s mister still isn’t drinking the red bubbles. Adelaide shudders at the thought of Sunday but takes another sip all the same.

Adelaide listens to Kate Reynolds and remembers the night that Janine Haines was so jubilant. It was a while ago, but not that long…

Adelaide’s mister has just revealed the way he voted and Adelaide purrs.

9pm
Kero is about to concede.
He is not live from Crystal Brook which is a shame.

(part five)
Kero has conceded.

The red bubbles are almost gone.

This is goodnight from Adelaide.

Kero has conceded.

The red bubbles are almost gone.

This is goodnight from Adelaide.

erm, that bloke who stood against Dorothy Kotz will be embarrassed about this interview when he hears it again.

Paraphrased:
I’m just some bloke who found a good electorate.

Do you have anything else to offer the electorate?

Well, we’ll see over the next four years…to be honest I never thought I’d win.

Adelaide predicts that fella is up for media and communications induction on Monday afternoon at the latest.

Adelaide’s husband asks for the remote.

Oh no! Jane Lomax-Smith has just said ‘we’ve sung from the same song sheet’. Adelaide bangs her head on her keyboard and then on her desk and then on her kitchen bench.

Nick Xenophon might get two up. That little map of SA in the middle of his forehead obviously worked (yes, Adelaide wishes she were liveblogging from Tassie right now). Adelaide had considered that little map of SA to be a little Hansonesque, but what would Adelaide know?

Adelaide’s mister still isn’t drinking the red bubbles. Adelaide shudders at the thought of Sunday but takes another sip all the same.

Adelaide listens to Kate Reynolds and remembers the night that Janine Haines was so jubilant. It was a while ago, but not that long…

Adelaide’s mister has just revealed the way he voted and Adelaide purrs.

9pm
Kero is about to concede.
He is not live from Crystal Brook which is a shame.

Congratulations to you-know-who and to her magic, magic team. And to people who might have stuffed envelopes for her in the past.

7.51
It’s all over, and there’s still half a bottle of red bubbles to go. The wise thing would be to leave them where they are.

Hartley is swinging, and Nick Minchin is looking glum.

This is objective coverage, so Adelaide makes no comment.

Leon Bignell has won with a slogan of ticketty-boo. South Australian politics at its best.

8.06
Adelaide teaches her child to sms.

Joan Hall has lost! Adelaide wonders whether she heard right.

Nick Minchin is looking even more glum. Chris Pyne is sounding glum.

Adelaide – who knows a thing or two about Stuart – isn’t sure how she feels about that being Lib retain. Should election night make your heart ache? Grief is a complex beast.

Oh. There’s Dominique Schwartz. A rather credible female voice. Perhaps more credible than Adelaide’s.

Adelaide posts.

Adelaide’s husband has returned. Hooray. With some effort, he gets the cork off the bottle. ‘You win the prize,’ Adelaide’s children yell.

Meanwhile on the television, they are talking about Chaffey. Someone needs to tell Foley how to pronounce that woman’s name. Given that she’s going to be in Cabinet.

Wonder what the ALP backbenchers think about her place in Cabinet, Nick Minchin asks (not unreasonably).

Of course, looks aren’t everything in a political commentator, but Adelaide believes that a man with a beard should also have a moustache (note: Adelaide is not wearing pearls).

Still no word on Unley, Adelaide notes, and what a pity that we don’t know anything about the Upper House.

Vini appears to be holding Norwood. Which is a pity, because if Nigel Smart won, Adelaide had intended to write ‘and who said an arts degree didn’t get you anywhere’.

Adelaide sets herself a task:
Describe the difference between Nick Minchin and Kevin Foley in 25 words or less. Kevin Foley goes for Power?

News on Unley. People will vote for Vini and not Michael Keenan? Adelaide shakes her head.

Adelaide receives notice that she has had stunning ebay win (mild compensation for having lost on a Trixie Belden auction earlier in the day).

Stunning revelation of the night:
Angas Redford what happened? Why did you lose?
Angas Redford: I didn’t get enough votes.

Matthew Abraham makes a Possum magic joke about an hour after Adelaide first made it. How ace is this blog? How cutting edge? How on the ball?

Adelaide can not keep up with the radio and the television, and wishes that she had wireless which worked.

Adelaide publishes the post. Is this how liveblogging works?

In what Adelaide believes is a unique experience…liveblogging the South Australian election (although Adelaide isn’t sure what liveblogging actually means).

ABC 891 is off to a shaky start. Hello? Yes, boys, it is the evening. Tim Noonan out at South Australia’s most marginal seat.

Adelaide makes a big call: either Vini or Nigel will win (remember you heard it here first).

And it’s still the eminently watchable Michael Smith on the television (from what Adelaide can hear over the top of the Hungry Hippos – Adelaide asks, not for the first time, how can greatness be achieved?).

Adelaide is still disappointed that Anthony Green can’t be with South Australia this evening. Apparently, things will be more interesting down there in Tasmania.

broadcast interrupted to stop children jumping on each other’s backs – Circus Oz had seemed like a good idea at the time

!!In a serious blunder never made on election night before, Adelaide realises she has already finished the last of the wine, leaving only (red) bubbles in the fridge.

Adelaide predicts: the liveblog will end in a mess. Adelaide has, at least, fed herself (and her family of course).

Anthony Green’s voice can be heard, but it is 6.23 and he has nothing useful to say.

Kerry O’Brien has arrived. Adelaide’s husband will be home soon. Two Chrises on the radio. Kevin Foley and Nick Minchin on the television – Adelaide is hard-pressed to pick the difference between the two. Adelaide searches for glasses, but nothing becomes any clearer. Dean Jeansch is there too.

6.34
First figures in. 1.1%
Enfield – Green vote strong. Slight swing to the Libs according to Chris Pyne.
Collinswood – 239 votes counted.

We are not at the business end of the evening, Adelaide reminds herself.

Dean Jeansch talks about the .1% counted in Stuart, and Gunn is looking good. Adelaide says: too early to call.

erm…Adelaide notes that hers is the lone female voice commenting on this election…and no one can hear hers. Adelaide struggles with the cork on the bubbles.

Chris Pyne’s scrutineer rings in. The Brighton booth (in Bright) has been won by Chloe Fox. A swing of 11% to the ALP. Chris Schacht has a note of urgency in his voice. Chris Pyne says it doesn’t sound good. CS says the ALP hasn’t won that booth for twenty years. Adelaide concedes that Possum Magic is a good book. The radio is interviewing Chloe Fox.

On the television, Dean Jeansch is telling Kerry why they haven’t got the results from the metropolitan results yet and they can’t comment on Bright. Adelaide wonders isn’t anyone in the television studio listening to the radio?

Still, the thing about television is that you can see Vini resplendent in pink, but we have no idea what Chloe Fox was wearing.

6.52
Adelaide calls it: Labour to win. It’s a Rann-slide.

Adelaide publishes to make it official.

They were running late for school, but the sound of Rob Kerin’s voice on the radio made the whole car feel somehow calm. Adelaide was particularly reassured to hear Kero explain that of course they could find efficiencies and cut 4,000 public sector jobs. Take education, for example, he said. With all those children leaving the public sector, we just don’t need that many teachers any more.

It was the kind of thing that once you heard it, it just made perfect sense.

What a pity things had been so hard to hear over the noise of the Festival and the Fringe and the Adelaide Cup.

Adelaide put on her blinker as she waited her turn at the lights. The windscreen could do with a wash she thought.

‘Mum, you forgot to give me my undies to put on,’ her little boy said.

There are some mistakes you make your child live with, Adelaide thought, and some you don’t. She turned the car around.

‘I can’t wait to tell my friends about that,’ her little boy said and both of the children laughed. And then they said undies to each other over and over again. And they yelled mum forgot and they laughed a lot and Adelaide couldn’t hear Kero’s voice any more.

Adelaide hoped they wouldn’t be too late for school.

Adelaide was not ungrateful for the personalised, but not personal, correspondence she had received from her local MP. Even without the pamphlet with that random assortment of testimonials from people who had never been to a sub-branch meeting before, Adelaide knew that the said MP was a hard-working local member who – given the chance – could make good things happen.

But Adelaide was still mightily pissed off about this and its broader implications. And she remembered that no one had got back to her and replied to the lucid, articulate emails she had composed on the matter.

Adelaide sighed, pursed her lips and scratched her head.

It was just like her mother had taught her. It is quite a responsibilty, having a vote.