The Christmas of 2004—while deciding with my family whether to put my hat in the ring—my uncle Mike sat me down. He said, "Go for it, but promise you won't stay more than three terms—no longer than nine years." In his mind, MPs lost their way after that and got too full of themselves, and anyway, as a farmer, "It's not real work." So last year, as he was sick and dying, I said to him, "I'm sorry I broke our promise." He laughed and, in his straightforward way, said to me, "Let's be honest, Paula, when I made you make that promise, none of us actually expected you'd do so well." It's been a hell of a ride from list MP to Deputy Prime Minister to deputy leader of the National Party. I know how proud my uncle was of me. In fact, I know how proud all my family are of me. 