In a Sydney CBD hotel room, my alarm goes off at 5am.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
or signup to continue reading
Or, I should say, alarms - I've set one on each of my phones, plus the hotel's digital alarm clock for good measure.
We've got 15 minutes to drop our bags off downstairs, then hop on the bus that will take us who-knows-where.
It's my first day travelling with the Prime Minister on the 2025 federal election campaign and I have no idea what's in store.
I've joined at the midway point, when he and Opposition Leader Peter Dutton are trying to cut through to voters in between the Easter and Anzac Day long weekends.
We're not told where we are travelling to, learning this only upon arrival at each location, as is customary for both campaigns.
The idea is to prevent the other side from catching wind of their opponent's plans, enabling them to strategise ways to one-up the competition.
But the few details we've been given - planned travel time, recommended attire and weather forecast - enable us to make a near-enough guess.
We've been told to expect a short flight and to dress for temperatures in the low 20s, leading us to speculate it could be Merimbula on the NSW South Coast.
A couple of dozen journalists, most of us from the Canberra press gallery, are on the bus.
Some have been travelling non-stop since the election was called a few weeks ago, and look as tired as you'd expect.
Our driver pulls up at the airport and a fellow reporter sighs when she sees the RAAF plane on the tarmac.
We climb aboard, under instructions that no photos are the be taken inside the aircraft.
Lifting off is a different experience; our Air Force hosts prompt us to hold on to a bar overhead to steady ourselves.
Sandwiches are handed around from boxes stacked neatly into large, ice-filled eskies.
After a short flight, we descend, and I'm peering out the window for clues when I realise my more experienced travelling companions have already opened Google maps on their phones.
Moruya! Not too far off.
Another bus meets us on the tarmac and ferries us to Batemans Bay where the first media event of the day is scheduled for 9am at the local urgent care clinic.
We're in the marginal seat of Gilmore where Labor MP Fiona Phillips is being challenged for a second time by former NSW Liberal minister Andrew Constance.
The Prime Minister makes his own way there and goes through a different entrance, enabling him to avoid the protesters who have gathered on the lawn outside the clinic.
They are upset about the closure of the local emergency department, a state government decision that, inconveniently for the federal Labor campaign, has angered thousands of locals.
After stopping to chat with them, I head to a room downstairs with the main press pack to wait for the Prime Minister to arrive.
He's upstairs with the local member, meeting with the clinic GP and nurse for a staged media moment that's being captured by a select few journalists and cameramen.
In what's called a pool arrangement, they have been chosen to attend and share their content with the whole group.
Before too long, Mr Albanese sweeps into the room as stands in front of a green-and-yellow Medicare backdrop to take our questions, flanked by Ms Phillips and his Finance Minister Katy Gallagher.
The press conference lasts 27 minutes.
"Thanks very much," the PM says before making his exit.
Then it's back on the bus, after a brief interruption by shouting protesters, this time raising concerns about the local housing crisis.
"They don't have time to listen to us," one woman mutters after one of our minders tells us it's time to go.
Our schedule is strict and today is a particularly busy one, with three separate media events in two states.
After touching down in Melbourne, we're bussed to Box Hill in the city's east, where we've been promised a "good amount of colour" at what's called a pic fac.
That's when journalists are invited, but it's mostly to capture visual content, with no press conference or in-depth remarks given by the politicians.
A frenzied scene awaits us at the Golden Lily Chinese restaurant, where yum cha is to be served to Mr Albanese, Foreign Minister Penny Wong, Chisolm Labor MP Carina Garland and Menzies candidate Gabriel Ng, who speak with members of the local Asian business association.
The restaurant is full and the other patrons seem unsurprised by the commotion.
After the performative feast, it's back on the bus for the journalists, who weren't invited to partake in the meal.
Grumbling ensues from those who are getting hungry, the RAAF sandwiches a distant memory.
As a consolation prize, our minder from the Prime Minister's campaign team has managed to grab some pork buns, which are handed around along with snacks of dried noodles.
We cross the city and emerge at the St Kilda foreshore, where Mr Albanese is to promise funding for a local homelessness charity.
He and Macnamara MP Josh Burns, who is fending off a Greens challenge in the progressive inner-south seat, are buoyant.
It's another pic fac, capturing the grateful smiles of those who stand to benefit from the Labor election pledge.
These are the moments campaigns are made of, and seeing them up close is an odd experience.
So much logistical manoeuvring happens behind the scenes for each news grab or social media reel.
For political journalists, our duty is to readers who rely on what we report to inform their votes.
We're here to observe and do our best to cut through the spin, pay attention to the wider story and ask tough questions.
It's why we participate in this circus, and why media companies fork out tens of thousands of dollars to cover election campaigns on the ground.
And while every moment is scheduled and stage-managed, unscripted events have a way of breaking through - whether hecklers, protesters or the sudden death of a world religious leader.
It's our job to capture what's happening with a critical eye, and to keep asking questions you won't hear answered on Instagram.
