Ten things that happened on 4 July 2004:

1. We were in Philadelphia, America's first capital, home to the Liberty Bell, home to the woman who sewed the first stars and stripes, and home to a lot more historic besides.

2. We saw people hanging out on the street wearing tricorn hats, and a lot of red white and blue. We saw a woman who'd had a patriotic pedicure, flags drawn onto her toenails.

3. We saw patriotically iced cakes in a supermarket.

4. We stared blankly when people wished us Happy Independence Day.

5. We saw a display of shoes. There were hundreds of pairs. Some were boots that had belonged to American servicemembers who had died in the Iraq war, some were places to symbolise the Iraqis who had also died. Names of dead people were read aloud, a bell rung. Kay heard a kid ask its parent: "Are they reading out the names of the good people we killed?"

6. We felt very angry. We hated America. We felt afraid for the future. Our sense of personal distance and protective irony had dissolved amongst so much ignorance and awfulness.

7. We visited two iconic sculptures: Robert Indiana's Love statue and Claes Oldenburg's magnificent peg.

8. We watched the parade. We saw racially segregated bands, creepy clowns, big men in little cars. We saw the crowds cheer the military as they marched past with a huge gun, yet fall silent with disinterest when a dance troupe of Sikh kids formed a three storey human pyramid to some shakin' bhangra. We saw the teenaged leader of a black marching band give what looked like a black power salute. We saw some breakdancers spinning on their heads. We saw white beauty queens and mummers. We left before the fireworks, before some kid got shot in the foot.

9. We had a beer at a lesbian bar called Sisters. The punters all sat around watching 'Monster', cheering Aileen on. It was like 'Cheers' for dykes. The place was empty because "everyone's gone to see Madonna."

10. We went to see 'Fahrenheit 9/11,' a late showing because the earlier screenings had sold out, itself a comforting thought.

On 5 July 2004 we went to 6221 Osage Street, the former home of MOVE, a radical black revolutionary organisation. In 1985 the Philadelphia police dropped a bomb on the house, killing six adults, five children and wiping out the whole block (fire crews had been instructed to let the buildings burn). The block has since been rebuilt, but many of the houses appear derelict. 6221 is there, with a special parking bay out the front for police and city officials.

We looked at the street, then ourselves, then the car, and then we drove away. God bless America, we thought.