Britain hasn't been this divided since Suez

In many ways, the British have a loose sense of nationhood – the different parts of the UK, especially Wales and Scotland, provide stronger pulls of allegiance than the whole. Class divisions remain – this may be a more meritocratic, less deferential society but you can still make some assumptions from the way people speak. There is also an urban/rural divide of sorts. And the peoples of this island are divided on the war, more divided about a conflict involving British forces than at any time since Suez.

It is ironic, then, that virtually everyone we spoke to had a sense of being one people. That may be partly because the shared values and principles they expressed were not so much British as human – the concern to do the right thing, genuine wrestling with moral dilemmas, desire for the war to be over fast, hopes and prayers that it would be as bloodless a conflict as possible. Needless to say, they all wanted rid of Saddam Hussein.

Above all, reactions to war were almost never predictable. In the Pump Rooms in Bath four elderly ladies, the height of genteel respectability, tell me they are against the attack; down the road, a young man with spiky hair and some kind of revolutionary T-shirt is "backing our boys".

Families are divided, like the married couple in Orkney who have been teaching there for more than 10 years: she is American and vociferously anti-war, he is a Scot and determinedly in favour.

Even the old soldiers in Edinburgh and Bath had a range of views – including one who had served in Palestine and argued with some force that the Middle East crisis and the threat of terrorism would never be solved until the Palestinians "received justice".

In the garrison town of Catterick in North Yorkshire, a group of pensioners make it abundantly clear they were against war. What people look like, how they sound, their age, gender or where they come from, none of these provide clues as to how they are responding to events in the Gulf.

What people look like, how they sound, their age, gender or where they come from – none of these provide clues as to how they are responding to events in Iraq

The only exception we came across was among Muslims. They were united to a man and woman in their opposition, although they did offer some rather different takes on what was happening, who was to blame and even the nature of the conflict. Some regard it as a war against Islam, others do not; some believe the Americans are motivated by the desire to control oil supplies, others do not; and some are willing to express support for British troops, others regard that as perverse given their opposition to the whole business.

Everywhere people are thoughtful. In the foam factory in Wales, a machinist raises the challenge of a northern front – he is concerned about the plight and aspirations of the Iraqi Kurds and the ambition of the Turks. Everywhere there is anxiety – three or four mothers have mentioned the impact on their children – wall-to-wall television coverage means even the very young are being subjected to this unfolding drama. If these women are typical, thousands of children all over Britain are now having nightmares, fearing that the bombs they have seen falling in Baghdad could soon be falling on them.

We heard similar stories about people living on their own traumatised by the images they have seen. A man talked about his elderly mother, he was worried about how depressed she had become. The trauma people here are experiencing is nothing compared to those having to cope with real bombs, but it should not be dismissed.

Above all we are a nation engaged, enthralled and perhaps even addicted. The polls say opinions have changed and you do get a sense of that, even among a sample of a few hundred over a few days. Backing for war has grown largely because – although not only because – our troops are now committed.