A few days ago I went on another of my nostalgic returns to St Kilda. As you know, I no longer live there, as I foolishly believed Professor Flannery and his acolytes when they said it was a scientific fact that St Kilda would soon be awash as the Antarctic ice-cap melted and our properties became worthless waterlogged ruins; accordingly, I moved to higher ground in South Yarra, lay in provisions and awaited the inevitable apocalyptic rise of the sea.