Perfection is an interesting concept. When I was at school phrases like ‘practice makes perfect’ were bandied about. A perfect score was what you aimed for. Perfection was the ultimate sign of success. My understanding of perfection has changed over the years.

There’s one thing I do brag about, though, and that’s my special gift. Here it is: I can sit in my house, surrounded by dirty dishes, piles of unfolded washing, stuff all over the floor, and I can concentrate on work.

I’m pregnant. I’m about six weeks behind the Prime Minister and in sync with the Minister for Women. This closeness has come with its challenges. My mum likes to remind me when I say I’m tired “Well Jacinda is running a country, and she seems to be doing fine.”