Gordon Brown seemed more of a mourner than a Prime Minister at his monthly press conference yesterday. This was not politics as usual. He was hollowed out, his entire demeanour damped down. He wore a black tie and a dark suit, the poppy on his lapel the only relief from a grey and grim hour of almost personal grief.

He began with a statement that was more prayer than politics. “Again, today, the fallen will return home in solemn ceremony.” His voice was soft and foghorn deep. “Each life lost is an irreplaceable loss to the family.”

He looked out at us, blinking, eyes squinting. He seemed, as Tony Blair did at times during the Iraq War, shaken. Bizarrely, he then introduced Andy Burnham to give us an update on the National Health Service in exactly the same flat, slow voice that oozed sadness from every syllable.

Afghanistan dominated all, though, and Mr Brown’s theme was “I feel your pain”. I have to say that I think we could feel his, too. He never said her name or referred to it directly but the entire event seemed to take place in the shadow of Jennifer Jane, the daughter whom he and his wife Sarah lost soon after she was born nearly eight years ago. At times, yesterday, I felt that he was on the brink of welling up. For the hacks, it was rather surreal and even they seemed to ask gentler questions. For instance, no one asked about his eyesight, a significant topic of conversation at Westminster.

How had he felt about Jacqui Janes’s angry reaction to his scrawled condolence letter for her son Jamie. Sadness? Shame?

“I feel for the mother’s grief,” he said, voice at the bottom of the ocean. “I understand the pain that she is going through. I wanted to say during that conversation with her but thought I could not really do so because I do not know her, that when there is a personal loss as deep and immediate as she has experienced it takes time to recover. That loss can never be replaced — you have got to take every day at a time.”

Why hadn’t he apologised for his spelling mistakes? He said that he had, and added: “I also said to anybody whom I have written to, if my writing is difficult to read, I apologise.” He paused. “Look, I understand the sense of grief that people have. I understand the loss that people feel.”

Why had the country turned against Afghanistan? “I am a shy person,” he said shyly. At this point I felt that the event was becoming surreal. Was this the same Great Clunking Fist who smashes up his political opponents? Was this the political bruiser who shouts and throws mobile phones?

He seemed almost tentative as he said he goes round the country and talks about Afghanistan. “I am ready to discuss these issues but I also do feel the pain of people who are grieving, I do understand the sadness and the anger. I think it is very important that someone who is in my position understands.”

He was asked about the people who have signed an e-petition on the Downing Street website for him to resign. “Criticism is part of the job,” he said before returning like a magnet to his theme. “Look, I am a parent also. I feel the pain. I am a parent who understands the pain when something goes terribly terribly wrong. I understand how long it takes to handle the grief.”

I think everyone was relieved when it finished.

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