When she was appointed as Australia's Ambassador for Women and Girls, Natasha Stott Despoja raved about it as her "dream job".
It "dovetails with everything I have ever done and cared about," she told reporters in December 2013, back on her old stomping ground at Parliament House.
Just over a year on, the gig has taken her to more than 16 countries, from Papua New Guinea to Madagascar, the United States and Burma. She has been to slums, orphanages, highland villages, the United Nations Security Council and international conferences with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie (who apparently are even more good-looking in person).
So, is it still her dream job?
Stott Despoja repeats the question while she mulls it over.
We are seated near the back at Chianti on a tree-lined street on the eastern edge of Adelaide's CBD.
The Italian restaurant is an institution in Stott Despoja's hometown, where owner Maria Favaro embraces her like an old friend and hospitably fusses over the drink order, mineral water and Diet Coke.
"The idea of this job is still my ideal," Stott Despoja says.
"The opportunity to promote gender equality in the international space is everything that I love," she continues, ticking off its focus on human rights, foreign affairs and the rights of women and girls."
Then she pauses slightly.
"It's sometimes a hard job."
She is away at least one week in four from Adelaide and can end up in some "tricky" places – Afghanistan being one of them.
"This is tough when you've got young children," she says, of Conrad, 10 and Cordelia, who has just turned 7.
The issues she is working on are also confronting, from sexual abuse to sex trafficking, female genital mutilation and desperate poverty.
"You go to one of those rubbish slums in a place like Mumbai [and] you want to cling on very quickly to your children and neighbourhood and very clean, lucky lives."
Some might struggle with the image of that Gen X Doc Martens-wearing senator growing up to be an ambassador working for a Liberal government, but Stott Despoja isn't one of them.
"I feel I'm working for Australia," she says simply.
And she explains that regardless of other potential differences of opinion, she and Bishop are "at one" when it comes to the importance of women and girls.
"We've been friends and colleagues for years," she says of the Foreign Minister – noting that she entered parliament two years before Bishop turned up in Canberra.
In a fluke dining event, Stott Despoja has eaten at Chianti only the night before at a dinner for her husband – PR consultant and former Liberal adviser Ian Smith – who has just been made honorary consul for the British Consulate in Adelaide.
So she recommends the housemade duck pappardelle on good authority. In a nod to nutrition, we also order a green leafy salad with fancy roasted garlic and honey vinaigrette that largely goes untouched.
The former senator may be working for her country, but is it hard for someone who was so outspoken – outspoken enough to enter parliament in their 20s – to be in a role where you have to watch your language so carefully?
"I think it's often exciting for politicians and former politicians to discover their inner diplomacy," she says.
Time has also flown since she gave her valedictory speech in 2008, asking people not to take her decision to spend more time with baby Conrad as a message that "motherhood and politics are not able to be combined".
Stott Despoja shrugs that some people can be confused when they see her in one of her many new guises: "they think once a politician, always a politician, but I'm really comfortable in this role".
Since leaving parliament, Stott Despoja has worked with many organisations from beyondblue to Ovarian Cancer Australia and sat on the boards of the South Australian Museum and the Advertising Standards Board. She taught a fiery Adelaide university politics course with Alexander Downer (students would tweet their arguments). And remains the founding chair of Our WATCH, which aims to stop violence against women and children in Australia.
"For the past six years, I've loved the not-for-profit roles that I've had. I've loved the board work. I've loved being part of a team that was about achieving goals, without necessarily doing it publicly or in a high profile way."
It's not that she has lost interest in politics – on the sidelines of lunch, she talks seriously and very knowledgeably about Canberra happenings. And whenever work brings her to parliament again, it gives her a pang.
"For a long time I missed the nitty gritty of legislation," she explains.
"I always felt most at home in the Senate chamber, and I miss that opportunity to change laws which change lives."
She also misses the camaraderie amongst those in the building (people like the late Tom Uren used to wander in, sit on her office couch and have a chat).
But she says after she has been at parliament for about half an hour, the pang vanishes – "I feel really cured".
She does not miss the "silly stuff" – the focus on appearance, the nastiness that can come both from other politicians and commentators. And she thinks parliamentary behaviour has become worse in recent years.
"I may be a little nostalgic … but sometimes there is a lack of civility in the chamber that shocks me."
It is strange to hear Stott Despoja talks like a veteran of the 'good old days' and realise that she is only 45 – a time when many people enter parliament. Indeed, now that she is out, she is seeing the careers of friends or people she knew from student politics days take off.
These range across parties from parliamentary secretary to the Prime Minister Alan Tudge and Liberal MP Tony Smith to Labor's David Feeney, Richard Marles and Penny Wong.
"It's kind of fun living vicariously," she says, adding that she still watches parliament and will email or text MPs if she thinks they have given a good speech.
She concedes that having such an extensive political career so young is "bizarre" and she missed out on things at a time when her peers were travelling or trying out different careers.
"For all the cliched headlines about being a 'party girl' … I was rarely that.
"I spent my 20s and 30s ensconced in legislation."
There has been speculation since she announced she was leaving parliament that she would return when her children were older. Anybody who saw her articulate performance on Q&A earlier last month, arguing for action on domestic violence, could be forgiven for thinking she belongs in parliament.
But here, Stott Despoja is unequivocal.
"I can't imagine it," she says.
"I'm reluctant to rule anything out in my future, but I have no desires."
The fact that the Democrats are effectively no longer must not help matters.
"A great sadness of my life is the demise of the Australian Democrats," Stott Despoja says.
Stott Despoja won't comment on the need for a new centrist party – she is now a diplomat, after all – but does note, "there are political parties big and small that have policies that overlap, emulate or reflect some of the principles and policies of the Democrats, I still don't feel that there is an exact party that is my political home."
As Stott Despoja's English breakfast tea arrives, talk at last turns to the big unanswered question.
She may no longer be that 26 year-old who landed in Canberra as the youngest woman to be elected to parliament, but some things have not changed.
Although she is in heels when we meet, she insists she still wears Docs.
"I like a sensible shoe. What's not to love?"
Life and Times
1969 born in Adelaide
1995 enters the Senate for the Australian Democrats in South Australia when John Coulter vacates his seat
1996 elected in her own right
1997 becomes deputy leader of the Democrats under Meg Lees
2001 becomes leader of the Democrats following internal split over the GST
2002 resigns the leadership amongst more party ructions
2008 leaves the Senate after deciding not to contest the 2007 election
2013 appointed Ambassador for Women and Girls
