I FELT uneasy looking at the photograph of a devastated Gordon Brown and his wife Sarah leaving the hospital where, less than an hour before, their baby daughter had died in their arms.

As we stared at those faces, frozen in grief, weren't we intruding on a painfully private moment? This was made all the worse by the fact that our apparently cold and distant Chancellor had opened his heart to us all just the week before.

The birth of his first child had instantly transformed him from dour politician to beaming new father, happily gushing to the press about the beautiful daughter who had changed his life.

But, as that camera flashed at Gordon and Sarah Brown in the darkness of their bleakest hour, did he regret letting down his guard and opening his personal life to such public scrutiny?

I, like other readers of The Northern Echo, and the rest of the national newspapers that used the photograph, did look at it. In fact, I stared at it and it brought tears to my eyes.

Baby Jennifer's story touched us all. Gordon Brown reminded us of what was truly precious in life. When she fell ill, we listened anxiously to the news for reports of her progress. The death of any baby upsets us. It goes against the natural order of things, crushing hope. But in this case, the Browns may as well have been family or close friends. We were all involved.

Forty, 30, even 20 years ago, the news of the death of a politician's baby would have been reported, but not dwelt on in the way we have dwelt on baby Jennifer.

How things have changed. The mass outpouring of grief after Diana, Princess of Wales, died signalled the end of the British public's normal reserve. And her sentimental confessionals set a trend that changed our relationship with, and expectations of, public figures. We no longer look up to and defer to politicians in the way we once did. To a point, we like to think of them as like "one of us", with all the human frailties that involves.

Our hearts warmed to Mo Mowlam as she recovered from a brain tumour and to Clare Short as she confessed to giving a son up for adoption. Many parents identified with the Prime Minister when his drunken teenage son was picked up by police.

I suspect, and hope, that Gordon Brown does not regret openly sharing the joy of baby Jennifer with us. The minister who baptised his daughter and doctors who were there when she died have spoken touchingly to the Press about exactly what happened, obviously with the Browns' permission.

Some find it helps to share grief. The father of Tim Parry, the youngster killed by an IRA bomb in an English shopping centre, said talking about his son's death to the media helped him cope. But his wife felt the opposite.

However Gordon and Sarah Brown face their grief, let's hope the British public's genuine sorrow, compassion and concern for them both will bring some comfort.

IN contrast to Gordon Brown's new openness, Tony Blair remains guarded as ever. Since the Government says every baby should have the "no-risk" MMR injection because it's good for them, isn't asking if baby Leo has had it as innocuous as inquiring if he brushes his teeth every day? So why so touchy?