All around Europe, time lies in wait, the greatest enemy of great men. No easy treaty defies the glum reaper.
One day soon, time (and disillusionment) will dispose of German Chancellor Gerhard Schroder. In two years or so, time will sweep French President Jacques Chirac into oblivion. Time laps around Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi's ankles already.
Any true chance of coming change depends crucially on this change of cast: fresh faces, fresh attitudes, fresh futures. All British Prime Minister Tony Blair's talk of building a new Europe in New Labour's image has a ticking clock as travelling companion. And yet, of course, there's an irony here. For time is Blair's foe, too.
What can the unreformed president of an unreformed, infinitely lugubrious European council do to resolve a crisis and begin the revolutionary switches of strategy that our prime minister think so vital? Not much, to be honest, once the fine words are stripped away.
Six months is a pitifully short time in EU politics. You've barely started before you've finished. You don't stand a prayer of drafting, let alone passing, the legislation that underpins reform.
The best you can do is steer, fudge and fix. Reform the dreaded Common Agricultural Policy once and for all by Christmas? Pigs may fly into a Strasbourg sausage factory. The need for change and the pace of that change run wholly out of sync.
So when Blair talks about constructing a new project that finds a new place in the world, what odds does he face? Huge ones. That ticking clock again.
One more "full" -- or fullish -- term, and then it's over. One more heave before handing over to Chancellor of the Exchequer Gordon Brown. A month ago, Blair was supposed to lose the referendum next year and then push off. Too many rowdy Labour backbenchers wanted him gone. Now, with no treaty vote left to lose, he's lost even that rationale for hanging on. The big crusade launched at midnight last Friday in Brussels comes with sell-by date attached. Chirac may outlast him yet.
That, when you see Blair bouncing up and down airplane steps, is a physical nonsense. Blair, the odd heart murmur aside, is a young 52 -- younger than US President George W. Bush or Brown, never mind the greyer heads of Europe.
Maybe eight years in the spotlight (with added Iraq) have worn out some of his electoral welcome, but little of that shows on overseas stages. Around mainland Europe, they still see him, emotionally, as in his pomp. From Kuala Lumpur to Washington the Blair writ continues to run.
So, thank you and good night ... this year, next year, sometime very soon. What does he do next? (The old Clinton problem.) Write a tell-a-bit autobiography -- sold to Rupert Murdoch for squillions -- to pay off his mortgage? Send the wife out to do a proper job? Find an oil company in need of a non-executive chairman? The possibilities, in truth, are a dying fall, an anti-climax that chucks aside too much experience and ability. Worse, they needlessly truncate the challenges of the past few weeks.
Blair and Brown have their mission for Africa. And nobody thinks that a weekend at Gleneagles or a pop concert in the park will see that long, desperate march out of poverty home to triumphant conclusion. Blair and Brown have their mission for Europe (one where Brown's economic policies -- neither French nor Republican American -- stand at the heart of progress). But, one day quite soon, Brown will have to play missionary all alone. That's the plan and the tacit pact.