Celestial High

 

I've been clearing out our garage again this week. It's one of those once a year tasks that involves countless discussions with Mister E as to what is useful and what really should just be binned. In my book anything that moved to the house with us more than 25 years ago and has sat unused ever since has to be ripe for jettisoning, but Mister E applies other benchmarks, especially when it comes to "boat stuff." Bit by bit, year on year a little more edges its way towards the dustcart. Give me another two decades and the garage shelves might finally be properly decluttered.

There are, of course, always items that do prove their worth even if the gap in using them exceeds a quarter of a century. That was the case with Mister E's precious sextant. He used it on some seriously long Atlantic voyages in the early 1980's before modern navigational aides became widely accessible to the leisure yachtsman. 

After that, it lay unused until 1999 when  he and the eldest unwrapped it to view the eclipse in August of that year, only to be thwarted for the most part by dense cloud cover. I was at work at the time so, like most of the events that surrounded me, I missed out altogether.

Of course the sextant made another appearance on Wednesday evening when it permitted us both (turn and turn about) to watch the eclipse that excited so many across Europe from a vantage point in our garden across the open fields to the west. To think you have to wait until retirement to witness a natural spectacle of that magnitude. Although, it's hardly surprising when it seems that apart from 1999 the only other solar eclipses of note that have coincided with my whereabouts' on this planet both occurred when I was probably still sleeping in a cot!

In fact based on the fact that North Yorkshire is probably going to be waiting until 2090 for another similar experience, that sextant might now be getting to rest for a long-time and be assured it won't be Mister E or me who'll be unpacking it then!

Cloud cover moved in fairly rapidly after our view of the eclipse and I didn't bother looking up later to try to spot the Perseid Meteor Shower. I recall getting a front row view for that spectacle many years ago sitting in the cockpit of our boat at the time, anchored off Lindisfarne and wow, was it amazing!

I thought I might have slightly better luck last night. Sitting back in a garden chair at almost midnight on a day when local temperatures must once again have beaten previous records, eyes to the heavens and connecting with the universe is unimaginably peaceful. The only shame was I'd left my specs in the car and all the shooting stars I thought I was seeing were somewhat blurred.

Tonight, I have further plans. Joined by the Youngest for the weekend, I reckon lying back on picnic blankets on our dried out lawn, spectacles on my nose, might just provide the full celestial experience, unless of course the bottle of wine already chilling, induces bleary eyed vision; it is a Friday night after all.