IT WAS the day on which everyone in or around Westminster embraced freedom though for very different reasons. President Bush called it a gift from “the Almighty”. Tony Blair felt that it sustained “the human spirit”. The protesters loved it because it gave them the power to stop traffic for hours.

Meanwhile, at No 10, Nigella roasted her pumpkin with the kind of sublime freedom practised by the celebrity chef.

The sky over London was sullen and the news from Istanbul cast a long and bleak shadow over the day. The flags were out along Whitehall and the American flag seemed, as it always does to me, to be a thing of true beauty. Already, hours before the protest, the crash barriers were up and the police out in force.

Mr Blair and Mr Bush held a joint press conference at the Foreign Office in a room so grand that it made you feel small just walking into it. Three gigantic chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling of true splendour. The 160 chairs had been set out as for a wedding, with those to the right reserved for the groom (US media) and those to the left for the bride (British media). Everyone knows that there is a special relationship but this seemed a bit much.

The build-up was portentous. The President’s team, including Condoleeza Rice and Colin Powell, came in and sat to one side. At 12.15pm an announcer said: “The principals are about to enter.” The room hushed. Two huge doors made of finest maple opened and shut with farce-like frequency but for no apparent reason. Then, finally, one door swung wide open and Mr Bush and Mr Blair arrived, walking as one.

Their messages also were almost identical, certainly on all key passages to do with terrorism, the events in Istanbul, and the moral imperative of going to war in Iraq. They talked of friendship but it was the body language that showed the truth of the bond: actions and words often seemed to mirror each other, something that usually reveals a great rapport.

When one talked, the other not only listened but looked intently at the other. At no point did they seem to be competing or less than thoughtful. Mr Bush, in person, is much more impressive — and authoritative — than on television. He speaks softly and slowly and he doesn’t use his hands or arms at all. This makes him look almost static. As the press conference continued Mr Blair seemed to be becoming increasingly American: his speaking pattern slowed and his hand gestures became less stacatto. He was a different man than the one who had appeared the day before, fulminating, in the House of Commons.

“Freedom is beautiful,” said Mr Bush when asked about the protesters who were due to march in a few hours. Outside on the street, though, freedom did not seem so much beautiful as rather scruffy and in need of organising. As the President and Prime Minister headed to No 10 and Nigella’s lunch, riot police clomped by on horseback. A woman with long white hair stood motionless at the barrier, praying over a candle. A man in a bright jumper carried a sign saying “Welcome Bush, Well Done”. A young man and a police officer shouted threats at each other.

It was a noisy day in Parliament Square. The bells of Westminster Abbey rang. A helicopter whirred. Big Ben chimed. The protesters clanged and shouted as they snaked by.

Inside Parliament, another protest was taking place, led by those well-known radicals, the Lords and Ladies of the Upper House. By the end of the day, they had forced a climbdown over Labour plans to restrict the right to trial by jury. Yesterday, inside and outside Parliament, freedom was tested.

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