Sophie Weston revisits her first solar eclipse and is moved all over again.
This week it has been almost impossible to avoid the eclipse effect on broadcast news and social media. I didn’t take much notice at first.
Now, this is odd. I’m normally very hopeful over such things. The moment some friendly stargazer announces a blood moon or a meteor shower, it goes into the diary. Then I get out my binoculars and go out onto my fourth floor balcony at whatever ungodly hour is foretold and follow whatever celestial map and directions I have managed to acquire.
With very little success, I have to admit. For the balcony in question is in central London.
The light pollution is pretty much total. And the chances of the skies over this wet northern land being overcast at any time of day are tending towards 90% certainty.
When I’m trying to get in touch with my inner astronomer, anyway. I am therefore used to disappointment. The beautiful image above is pure wish fulfillment. Continue reading