Ferreting about at Cop 15

It’s intriguing to be at the biggest gathering of heads of government that world has probably ever seen.

Back here in Copenhagen 10 days on from when I was here for the opening of the climate change conference, the atmosphere is more frenetic, more suspicious, more angry.

Thirty-six hours to go to its timetabled conclusion – this will either be one of the greatest failures of our time, a breakthrough, or, least probably, a resounding success.And then there is the failure or success of our own journalistic endeavours to tangle with this environmental octopus.

I get a text from Lula’s man – the president of Brazil will meet appropriately enough with Gordon Brown at the Hotel Angleterre.

But too late not to clash with the live transmission of Channel 4 news from here.

Wangari – the great Kenyan Nobel Prize winner will see us at 3pm with the wondrous Senegalese singer Baaba Maal. Will we ever find either of them? Least of all together?

And then there’s Gordon Brown himself…”late morning” says an aide – will the conference hall jam ever allow it?

Is it the most important meeting of world leaders since the second world war, or since the last one?

There are moments – as when I was in Spitzbergen looking at the open sea stretching ice pack-less to the polar horizon – when I think we really are at five minutes to midnight.

Then there are other moments when I ask myself “are we over stating it?”

Then I think of my children and think, even if our contribution to global warming is less than we know, whatever we are doing IS bad and we should do less.

Another queue, another talking head, how do you actually ever reach a decision about anything at all in a place like this…”excuse me ma’am, Mr President, British television, Jon Snow…err…Prime Minister! P R I M E  M I N I S T ER…”  

Agh, missed again!