down. "Consequently less krill, less bigger fish." Then there's the fact that ocean currents control our weather. Farmers on Tasmania's east coast (where I live half the year) have not had water in a year. They're aware that the problem is massive.

Cainey goes on: "In the broader scheme of things, the earth is still going to be here. The question is how much life do we take with us when we go. If we don't do anything in the next two to five years to change our behaviour and stop carbon emissions, it's probably too late." I repeat this sentence because it is a sentence of death that I have not heard issued before. "If we don't do anything in the next two to five years to change our behaviour and stop carbon emissions, it's probably too late."

The need to alter radically and abruptly our behaviour is pressing, but even before the disappointing news from the G8, Cainey was not

optimistic. "I was at a New Zealand carbon cycle meeting and it left me depressed. How long it takes to agree for a certain wording used in a joint statement - whether it's 'human-induced' as opposed to 'natural variation' - seems more important than doing anything about it. We're fiddling with language when we should be fiddling with our behaviour."

Our conversation leaves me with an undeniable picture of rising sea levels, salinified crop fields and centuries-long drought.

Meanwhile, Cainey has this image for a situation that involves us all: "You're sitting in your canoe in open water, nowhere near land, and it springs a leak, and you sit there and argue about whether to plug the hole with a piece of wood or cloth, and only one thing will happen unless you fix it: the canoe will sink. We're just arguing about what we might do and not fixing it."