Shadow of air strikes falls grimly over EU leaders

If Europe's leaders were seeking a symbol to sum up the mood at the Berlin summit yesterday, they needed only to look out their hotel window at the shattered stump of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. Bombed in the final days of the second World War, the church has been preserved in its ruined state as a reminder of the ugliness of war.

The shadow of impending air strikes fell grimly over yesterday's meeting, quickly snuffing out any euphoria generated by the unexpectedly swift agreement to nominate Mr Romano Prodi as the next Commission President.

The German Foreign Minister, Mr Joschka Fischer, looked anguished as he spoke of Europe's obligation to prevent a humanitarian disaster in Kosovo.

"We regret that it has come to a confrontation. With all our hearts. Every extra mile was travelled," he said.

Mr Fischer was speaking in the Zoo Palast cinema, where the German government is holding its press conferences.

The choice of a cinema seemed peculiarly apt given the preoccupation of the Chancellor, Mr Gerhard Schroder, with the media and entertainment.

The 3,000 reporters covering the summit made much of the proximity of the summit to the Berlin Zoo, from where a small group of baboons studied the political goings-on with an air of cool superiority.

But the journalists' mirth evaporated abruptly when they were plunged into a twilight gloom by a power cut that lasted more than an hour and caused hundreds of computers to expire with a little sigh.

It was an unfortunate introduction to Berlin, which was hoping to put its best foot forward during what the city regards as a curtain-raiser for its newly-enhanced status as the German capital.

"Power is coming to Berlin," quipped one reporter. "But not enough of it."

Outside the summit, groups of farmers protested politely against changes to EU funding of agriculture.

Less polite farmers were led away by the police, who confiscated a sack of manure and a number of farm implements they considered dangerous.

In an uncharacteristic demonstration of tolerance on the part of the police, nine farmers were allowed to carry pitchforks at the head of a procession.

Berlin motorists were less indulgent in their view of the 400 tractors that paralysed traffic in the city centre.

As darkness fell over the press centre and a stern matron announced that electricity would not return for another 45 minutes, the journalists consoled one another with glasses of warm beer and cold Bockwurst.

A great gasp of delight went up when the lights finally came on but, within minutes, everything went dark again.

The British Prime Minister's spokesman, Mr Alistair Campbell, was briefing journalists when the lights went out, provoking one of their number to comment: "We knew you were the Prince of Darkness, Alistair, but this is ridiculous."