Upon not being in London

Between one and two per cent of the population of this country was in London by noon today, demonstrating against a war that is almost inevitable. I didn't get out of bed until 1pm. I am trying to work out why.

It's not that I want the war to happen. It's not that I didn't have anyone to go with -- Miles wouldn't have come, because he agrees with Julie Burchill -- but some of my favourite people got up early this morning in order to stand up and be counted, and several of them asked me if I wanted to come too. It's not like it's a long way, it wasn't raining, and I do think this is a profoundly significant time: decisions made now are going to have huge ramifications for the future of international relations. So what then?

I think it has to do with what I feel is the essential futility of the gesture. There was a fabulous Onion article the week after September 11: Not Knowing What Else To Do, Woman Bakes American-Flag Cake. Getting on the bus to London this morning would have felt a bit like that.

I think we're just reaching the end of a marketing campaign. The date it's all going to kick off is in a diary somewhere in the White House with a big ring round it, and every day left between then and now is planned down to the colour of tie and the timbre of voice. The French and the Germans have thrown things a bit, causing a huge brainstorming session somewhere, but really, that's detail and it won't change a thing.

The consequences will be huge and unpredictable, Europe and NATO may well never be the same again, but George W Bush is going to have himself a war, Tony Blair is going to back him because he feels that's better than not backing him, and it really doesn't matter what the rest of us think any more than it matters what the Iraqis think.

Of course, I could be wrong. In which case I take my hat off to anyone who stood in the cold for hours today needing a wee.

joella