FOR A FEW days as 2004 slipped into 2005, Tony Abbott and I had a lot in common. On December 26 he received the news that his son, given up for adoption in 1977, had made contact. He called the same day to be greeted with the now famous remark, “Thanks for having me.”

Five days before Tony Abbott made that momentous call, I received an email from a young woman claiming to be my daughter. The name didn’t ring a bell and for a moment or two I was hesitant until I read that she had been adopted out in 1968 and had her name changed. I had known her as Chantelle; she was now called Yvonne. It was just after five in the morning and I rang her immediately. Although I am sure she made several quotable remarks, the emotion of the moment has wiped them from my memory.