Partying like a rock star. Just back from a very quick trip to remote Santa Fe for Kirsten and Andrew's wedding. It's an ordeal: 11hour flight to Phoenix, flight to Albuquerque, 1.5hour drive to Santa Fe, two days later do the reverse. I'm knackered. But I got to see John and Jason and their lovely home and I got to see my very dear friend happily married. I got jetlag. Oh and I'll get a sizable Amex bill, but by far it was worth it.

Today. London's congestion charge begins. In order to curb maddening traffic (some of the worse in the world, reportedly) London's mayor "Red" Ken Livingstone proposed a 5 quid charge for any vehicle entering the city center M-F, 9-5. The result is a strange system. Cameras capture license plate numbers then check them against a database of people who've paid the charge either in person or by mobile phone, then send out £80 fines to anyone who hasn't paid. Current reports are that the streets are calm. If it works, the congestion zone will be enlarged. If it doesn't, "Red" Ken won't be mayor. Can't wait for the crush on buses -- it's already impossible to get a bus from 7-9 in the morning, even though I live not 15 minutes ride from work.

Yesterday, Alex Ferguson, manager of the Manchester United football team, stormed into the locker room at the end of a disastrous game, kicked a shoe across the room in frustration, sending it flying to bash David Beckham in the head, cutting him above the eye. How's that for unintentional blame management. Beckham, team captain and husband to "Posh" spice is reportedly furious. (Because he's insulted or because he's England's vainest coverboy we don't know.) Come on David, a little scar may help tone down the pink nails, bleached hair, and sarong skirts.

Not in my name. On Saturday, a million people march through the streets of London to protest the rush to war with Iraq. Although organisers and the government quibble about the exact number (750,000 - 2m) it was still the largest march in British history. They took two routes, one from the south through Westminster and the other from Camden in the North -- stopping traffic and business along the way. It was a peaceful march, there were a few skirmishes and arrests, but generally well behaved (although Hyde Park was a bit of a mess afterwards.) There were young and old, families, students, a far more eclectic crowd than one would expect at a political march. They gathered to hear Tony Benn and Jesse Jackson, liberal democrat leader Charles Kennedy, London Mayor Ken Livingstone beg Blair and Bush to find other alternatives to the Iraq question. It was thrilling, and a bit scary to be part of it. I joined the march at Westminster and made my way up to Hyde Park. It was freezing cold, grey and gloomy and sombre -- appropriate, no? If you disagree with war, then let your politicians and leaders know.

Frightening. The Bush-war publicity machine seems to be working. Salon reports that a Knight-Ridder survey showed that 44 percent of the respondents said that most or some of the 9/11 terrorists were Iraqis.They weren't of course, something repeatedly discussed at the time. Furthermore, a spokesperson for the Prime Minister admitted that part of the British government's now infamous dossier on Iraq was plagiarised from a 1991 student thesis on Iraq. A former junior defence minster, Peter Kilfoyle, said he was shocked that such "thin evidence" was being used to win over the British public. Might not be the first time.

So America's getting its first view of the Michael Jackson interview with Martin Bashir. I wonder what the reaction will be. It's interesting that the UK can be easily whipped into a frenzy but is willing to forgive a man who admits to letting children sleep in his bed because of "naivete" and "innocence." If it had been any other man in the country he would have been lynched by now. At the worst Jackson demonstrates such shocking delusional behaviour that one can hardly believe anything claims of how harmless and non-sexual he is -- making him a predatory threat. At the very least, he's potentially endangering the children by letting them think that they can get into a bed with a 44 year old man and not come to any harm. I also feel extremely sorry for his children who are growing up with no role models other than an emotionally stunted delusional freak for a father.

Enough of that. It was mah jongg night last night, but as I had the set and had to work until late, we never played. I'm forgetting everything as time goes and need a refresher soon. But this weekend is jam packed with visits form old colleagues and a group outing to see the Eva Hesse show at the Tate. And generaly walking around my flat in my underwear as my houseguests will all have gone.

Jaded. I have vivid memories of the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger. It was home ill from school and watching the landing when the horrific images were played and replayed. It was the first time television had the power to make me sit stunned, unable to look away. Even though I was 17, I felt like a helpless child who'd had the wind knocked out of him.

In contrast, the crash of the Columbia, equally tragic, barely blipped across the events of the weekend. Have I become numb to the spectacle of tragedy? Does it have less impact because the world is so changed? Does the scale seem so less tragic and impactful after 11 September because it's 7 and not 3,000? Have American failings become less unthinkable in those 17 years and few days?

If the reports are true, and warnings were muffled because of committee shufflings and wranglings and budget talks, I hope we take a moment to hang our heads in shame. America got to space because we once had the strength of conviction in our dreams, and now may not have the strength to not falter - in so many of our dreams and ideals.