Day 1: Wednesday 9th Dec

The 'Hope-o-meter' in my morning newspaper - the sliding scale that rates the daily progress of the UN Climate Summit in Copenhagen - reads only two polar bears, not too hot for this early stage.

A leaked memo implies that rich countries have the outcome already sewn up, excluding developing countries and the UN from a deal. I, however, am currently more optimistic.

I am on the train on the way to London, the first stage of my 36-hour journey to Copenhagen. For company, I have my three Oxfam Scotland colleagues, Sarah, Sara and Michael (more will join us on the way), and a bag packed full with the tricks of the trade of a campaigner-cum-press officer at large - a pair of tartan shorts, some Oxfam flags, a few bottles of Scottish 2020 whisky (42 per cent proof), a Copenhagen Time Out and more Oxfam briefing papers than you could get through in 36 hours.

We are heading to Copenhagen for four days of campaigning and lobbying for a fair and binding climate deal, one which commits rich countries to cut their emissions by 40 per cent by 2020 and ties them in to $200bn a year to help poor countries adapt to the impacts of climate change and to support them to reduce their emissions.

As Scotland has the best climate change legislation in the world, which commits us to cutting our emissions by 42 per cent by 2020 (hence the whisky, get it?), we will also be taking every opportunity and offering a nip or two to encourage other countries to share Scotland's ambition on climate and commit to similar cuts.

Some have dubbed these talks the most important meeting since the end of the second world war. For Oxfam, we have been building up to them for two years and their importance cannot be overestimated.

Policy big-wigs from Oxfam and other NGOs will be inside the conference at the Bella Centre, lobbying and influencing civil servants and interested parties from developed and developing nations. The Heads of States will arrive next week. My job is to get the stories inside out to the Scottish and UK media and maintain their interest in something that still seems quite distant to people's lives here.

By the time we reach the Harwich ferry terminal, the action is heating up. Flags and banners abound. We gather up a few other Oxfam supporters from Birmingham, Manchester and around the rest of the UK.

A group of 28 Christian Aid cyclists arrives to deserved cheers and whoops: they've just pedalled 65miles today to get here. Amongst them is Rosalind Jarvis from Baldernock, Milngavie. She is doing it 'for the planet' she tells me, and for her children and grandchildren and late husband, a dedicated climate campaigner who inspired her to continue his fight. She and her troupe hope to reach Copenhagen by lunchtime Saturday afternoon, just in time for the massive march in Parliament Square, as part of the Global Day of Action.

As we start to embark the ferry, our Oxfam party is taken aside, while others more menacing-looking are allowed to pass, our passports confiscated. I thumb the 'what to do in case of arrest' in my pocket, wondering whether now's the time to read it.

The police tell us they have intelligence that something is about to kick off in Copenhagen. After a mild interrogation and a brief quiz on climate science (a test of our credibility!), we are allowed to proceed.

On the boat, we head for the bar. The chat is of climate camps, transition towns, car-sharing and the price of beer (expensive). An academic from St Andrews tells us of his planned carbon off-setting sessions with Cameroonians; 'anarchists' in black hoodies and dreads sit quietly in the corner and swot up on Danish road signs.

Amidst the climate clamour, a Glaswegian voice bellows from the front: "Awright you bunch of miserable sods. I'm Andrew and I'm here to entertain you fir five an' a half hours, or fir as long as you stay in the bar at a fiver a beer."

They UK government may have tried to silence the Scots voice from their official Copenhagen delegation, but from where I'm sitting, it's loud and clear. "I am sailing...", it croons.

I neck a sea leg and head to bed, before I lose hope altogether.

Day 2: Thursday 10th Dec

Sarkozy joins Denmark and the UK by recognising that climate money must come on top of aid commitments. Oxfam welcomes the news.

Hope-o-meter: three polar bears

A boat, a bus and two trains later, we eventually get our first glimpse of wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen, albeit in pitch black.

Copenhagen suits this conference. This city's green credentials are already pretty high, with the bike the ubiquitous form of travel and the city's streets squarely surrendered to the cyclist and pedestrian.

This absence of cars makes it ideal for campaigners. Every picturesque nook and cranny is populated by NGOs, clamouring to be heard. Climate demonstrations go on tooth by jowl with seasonal Copenhagen pre-Christmas activity: people sip Jule Glogg (mulled wine) with blankets over their knees next to Climate Camps and inter-faith candle-lit climate vigils, which only add to the city's wonderful Christmas atmosphere. 'Hopenhagen' posters cry out from every bus and tube stop, keeping spirits high.

A motley crue of protest parodists (I think they're a theatre group) snake by us, satirising the whole campaigning culture that is taking over their city. We have spoof communists in red Santa hats clasping placards of Lenin and Marx close to their chest; then there's the gregarious Greens in their own colour-customised seasonal wear; followed by the 'angry anarchists', sneering all in black at the back. Even the most sincere campaigners amongst us can't help but raise a smile.

After a bite to eat with members of the Korean delegation sat beside us, we stumble upon the Danish Church Aid Climate Camp, where we are invited to enact our 'climate destiny'. I end up as a Bangladeshi refugee. After guiding me through the camp, Helene Tommerup, 30, from Copenhagen sums up the general mixed sentiments we are hearing about the talks on the streets:

"I think they (the talks) are a unique opportunity for us here in Copenhagen, but I am sorry that we haven't used the host's role to push things forward and the Danish government hasn't made an offer on the Danish behalf," she says.

Then Pradiph from India jumps in: "Poverty and climate change is being talked about on the streets," he says, "but it's not being talked in the Bella Centre. I spent all day in there today and I still don't know what they were talking about. It's a 12 years stalling process. They climb up two inches and climb back down again."

Down the road, the green neon lights of 'Hopenhagen' city glimmer in the night sky. But when we arrive at this Emerald City of green neon boxes - a cubist nightmare powered to the max by what doesn't appear to be renewable energy - we discover it is no more than marketing greenwash by Carlsberg, Coca Cola, Siemens and SAP, a Danish software provider.

If Carlsberg did climate change.... Thank goodness they don't.

Day Three: Friday 11th Dec

Brown and Sarkozy are making good noises about emissions cuts.

Hope-o-meter: four polar bears.

I'm woken up by a call from a special adviser to the First Minister: Alex Salmond is coming to the climate talks.

Salmond will arrive on Monday for Scotland's Low Carbon Mission. On Tuesday, he will meet with President Mohamed Nasheed, President of the Maldives, to sign a special agreement between the two countries in which Scotland will pledge to support the low-lying islands in their bid to become carbon neutral by 2020.

We'll be doing our bit to promote the Scottish Act on Monday, which has now been dubbed 'Scotland Day', but first off, we need to find a piper...

We head to the Bella Centre, the power focus of the talks, about 20 minutes out of town. A large cordon of police and 6ft fencing keeps people like us at bay.

The pavement is packed with protesters from all around the world, shoving leaflets in the hands of delegates and jockeying for media space, of which there's plenty. First up are the chicken and squirrel cross-dressing vegetarians from South Korea, followers of the Supreme Master Ching Hai. Then come the sharp-suited debt agents of Action Aid, strutting about calling for rich countries to 'pay up' for decades of pollution.

There are a few climate sceptics amongst the campaigners. The temperature has plummeted so much that they think themselves vindicated. I get chatting to one from the Schiller Institute of Denmark. "We need a big crash programme for colonising Mars. It is part of the human destiny to explore and it will bring us big economic benefits. Would you like to join me on my mission?" he asks. I politely decline.

On Monday, we'll take our place amongst this carnival of delights when, dressed in our tartan (reluctantly - I'm Irish) and led by our piper (when we find him), we'll 'persuade' rich country delegates about the merits of the Scottish Act, with a nip of our 2020 42 per cent whisky and some info on the Act on the side.

And some of them look like they could do with it. Members of an African delegation make a run for the centre door, their massive gloves cupped over their freezing ears, with faces like terror. Whether it's because of the cold or what's going on inside, I'm not sure.

And lest we forget why they (and we) are here, towering elegantly above the centre looking down on the proceedings are 10m tall skeletal figures of Sudanese women, their scant red, yellow and blue dresses billowing across their faces in the wind.

An artwork by Seven Metres, 'The Wandering Refugees' is a stark reminder of the 200 million refugees the UN Climate Change Panel, meeting inside, expect will come in the next 40 years due to climate change.

These meetings are the best chance of getting a deal to stop that happening. Inspired, we're off to find our piper.

Day four: Saturday 12th Dec

Half way through the talks and ministers have started to arrive. Ed Miliband is in the Bella Centre. Massive demo planned through the streets of Copenhagen.

Last week over 8,000 people gathered in Glasgow and 40,000 in London for The Wave, calling on world leaders to get a fair and binding deal from these talks. Now 100,000 young and old are gathered in Parliament Square in Copenhagen for a 6km walk to the Bella Centre to demand the same, and I'm one of them.

The atmosphere is electric. All sides of the Slotsholm Canal and everywhere in between is flooded with a sea of people and banners from across the world: Planet not Profit; Change the Politics not the Planet; Climate Change Costs Lives; Nature doesn't compromise, they read.

The anti-capitalists are rather more grandiose: "We don't just want the cake, we want the whole bakery," their banners scream.

Across the bridge, I can see a big leek and a blue dragon peeping above the marchers' shoulders, signifying Oxfam's Welsh contingent. Tibetan flags, Free Iran balloons, French accordians, Irish brogues, Aussie chants and Belgian drums fill the streets, all united in the same message: "What do we want: Climate Justice. When do we want it: Now."

At 1pm, Constance Okellet, an Oxfam climate witness from Uganda takes to the stage, passionately appealing to leaders to forge a deal that takes the needs of poor countries into account. "We want a fair, adequate and binding deal", she shouts. The roars and chants are so loud, you can barely hear her speak.

Then Danish photographer and supermodel Helena Christensen steps to the podium. She says: "It's incredibly difficult to reach agreement in families, so to reach it between nations obviously will be a long and difficult process. But that's what they are there for and that's what we expect from them."

Helena is an Oxfam Ambassador and earlier this year she travelled to Peru, where her mother is from, to photograph people struggling to cope with drought and crop failure as a result of climate change. Now she is back on home turf in Denmark helping Oxfam with their campaigning for the duration of the talks and showing an exhibition of her pictures.

As we start to move off, I spy Friends of the Earth Scotland. They have just arrived this morning, after leaving Glasgow at 11am on Thursday. They were held up when their Eurostar broke down and two of their four coaches were detained for three hours at the German-Danish border. The actress Helen Baxendale was on one that got through, but the other passengers weren't so lucky. Each had their passports taken off them and their bodies and luggage individually searched.

"The police were wearing rubber gloves," Mary Church from Inverness said: "But thankfully they didn't use them."

The police, in fact, are remarkably noticeable at this march by their absence. Compared to The Wave in Glasgow, they aren't that many police or stewards around at all.

That is until we reach McDonald's, the anarchists' symbol of capitalism that always gets its windows put in at protests. There's no chance of this happening today, with around 20 Danish police lined-up in front in full riot gear, not that anyone is trying. The next time we see any police is outside Kentucky Fried Chicken...

En route, I get chatting to Tom Mason, a retired engineer from Bolton. At 80 years-of-age, Tom has bussed it for two days to Copehnagen and is sleeping on a classroom floor, before leaving for home again tomorrow. Why? "Because it matters," he says. "Climate change is important. The world always wakes up too late. People who understand have a duty to others to be here."

Polar Bears abound. They seem to have become the unofficial symbol of these talks. They're everywhere in Copenhagen, from the costumed campaigners on this march to the cuddly toys for sale in every tent and street corner throughout the city.

The most impressive is the Copenhagen Ice Bear, a sculpture in Nytorv Square created by British sculptor Mark Coreth. Coreth took a 9 1/2 tonnes of ice to Copenhagen last Saturday. When we see it today at the end of the march, it has melted quite dramatically, its twisted bronze skeleton jutting out through what's left of its glistening hide. By the end of next week, there will be nothing left but a pool of water, a polar bear skeleton and a grim message for world leaders meeting a few miles away in the Bella Centre.

But after the show of solidarity on the streets of Copenhagen today and round the world last week, I am hopeful that they have heard our voices. Climate change costs lives. We need to sort it. Here and now. There is no 'after the talks.'

Hope-o-meter: five polar bears.