LAST time I looked, this was a Protestant country. In truth, it's probably more of a secular land, but officially at least, this is an un-Catholic place.

So in some ways, the reaction to the death of John Paul II comes as a surprise.

There are reasons, of course. Some are superficial but still telling, namely that this was the first celebrity pope, a religious leader as famous to non-believers or followers of other faiths as he was to those of his own creed. As one of the most recognisable people in the world, his passing, especially one so painfully protracted, was bound to generate monumental interest.

But mainly this pope was the figure-head, the religious father-figure, for untold millions of Catholics around the world. He was the man they looked to.

In me, his death caused a number of reactions. Initially I was reminded again of just how much he resembled my grandfather, Bill Cole, who died around the time Pope John Paul II began his long reign. They could have been brothers, except one was a Hampshire Methodist and the other a Polish pope. This is a personal reaction, and therefore largely irrelevant. It's just that I couldn't see the late Pope without making the connection.

Mostly, though, I couldn't help but worry about the impact of the pope's teachings on subjects such as birth control, homosexuality and women priests. His apparent dislike of the modern world, and the morals that went with it, caused him to hand down decrees that had a terrible cost. This was especially so with his refusal to contemplate the use of condoms, even as a means of controlling the spread of Aids. Such intransigence was unforgivable and could only bring misery in the name of faith.

But there was another side to this potty papal decree. A pope can autocratically declare that condoms are a no-no with every holy breath, but many ordinary Catholics will still quietly carry on using birth control.

There are limits to what even Catholics themselves will take from their Holy Father. So I have a sort of understanding of the solemn excitement surrounding the pope's death. Yet it's still a puzzle to see members of the British establishment tripping over themselves in their rush to attend tomorrow's obsequies in Rome.

The potential clash between the royal wedding and the Vatican funeral caused a certain ripe amusement. It was entertaining to see Prince Charles, Tony Blair and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, caught in a dither of priorities.

Should Charles attend the funeral or carry on with his wedding, and risk being photographed sipping champagne as the solemnities in Rome proceeded? Should Tony choose Rome or Windsor? And should the head of the Church of England desert his future king and pop off to the Vatican, instead of officiating at the royal wedding?

In the end, Prince Charles decided to bump his wedding on a day, freeing himself, and everyone else, for the papal farewell. A pragmatic decision and just as well too, because the prime minister and the archbishop had indicated that they would be taking the road to Rome.

Isn't it odd that in this Protestant/secular country the prime minister and the Archbishop of Canterbury should be so keen to attend a pope's funeral? Jim Callaghan was premier when two previous popes died, yet he felt no need to visit Rome. Papal funerals have never before been a draw for British prime ministers, yet Tony Blair is obviously eager to go. Perhaps his Catholic wife, seen veiled in black earlier this week at Westminster Cathedral, had a word.

Five hundred years after we broke with Rome so that a king could marry, we now seem to be rushing back. It's hard to tell if there is any lasting significance in this. There could be a more shallow reason. Perhaps Tony and the archbishop, along with President Bush and leaders from around the globe, just want to be in on the biggest world celebrity occasion of the moment.

Rome tomorrow is just the place to be.