Could this truly be all there is to it? Historically, a solar eclipse was truly transformative.
In 585 BC, a single eclipse prompted the Medes and Lydians – essentially the ancestors of modern Iranians and Turks – to halt their conflict and establish peace. One wonders whether contemporary world leaders might demonstrate comparable interest in celestial observation rather than self-absorption.
The sole political highlights since that distant era consisted of Farage’s defeat of a refuse container – both unsuccessful ventures – and Andy getting in contact to announce his return from vacation. Memorable moments, certainly, though lacking the grandeur of a Christopher Nolan production.
Had circumstances permitted me to analyse the political addresses delivered during the Clacton by-election for my English literature A-level examination in lieu of Shakespeare, perhaps my outcome would have exceeded a grade B. Yet reduced expectations from an early stage carry their own value – such disillusionment arrives eventually regardless. My performance was respectable without being exceptional; insufficient for The Argus to photograph me celebrating joyfully. Since receiving my results, my general standing hovers around five out of nine – equivalent to a grade C in previous grading systems. Budget wines at five pounds possess remarkably similar taste to premium bottles costing fifty – particularly when funding the purchase myself. One repaired pothole genuinely improves my day, even though two would be more appropriate. My spouse remains unappreciative of this philosophy. Nothing satisfies her expectations – the i360 observation wheel included.
Can anyone fault my indifference? Educators correctly predict a mere sixteen percent of A-level outcomes – though isn’t that reflective of most things? Where was the worldwide disaster predicted for Y2K? Where was the catastrophe promised following Brexit? I endured The Phantom Menace – if one can weather such profound disappointment, anything becomes manageable. Even Britney Spears’ apology – or rather, her infamous incident – rolled off me.
Regarding the eclipse itself: do you retain memory of its occurrence a week prior? I happened to be in Brighton when the previous eclipse transpired in 1999, yet recall nothing of it. Perhaps everything occurring between those two celestial events overshadowed the earlier one. Poland, Ukraine, matrimony, Sheffield, and Patcham may have displaced that particular recollection. After all, excessive concern regarding planetary configurations would make existence difficult. Witnessing the sun vanish hardly qualifies as extraordinary in a country where glimpsing sunshine itself constitutes an event. Well – until this past summer.
I arrived without protective eyewear or even a kitchen sieve. Nevertheless, I resolved to mark the occasion – this occasion from Mackie Park. Patcham Methodist Church also chose to observe the phenomenon. Early indicators seemed concerning. Upon arrival, the vicar had already arranged refreshments – glasses, sandwiches and snacks – on a blanket atop the hill. Might this become a spiritual encounter? Local inhabitants surrounded me. Had I responded to all my correspondence? Suddenly I visualised myself positioned at a pyramid’s apex in Mexico – dyed blue resembling a Smurf – awaiting sacrifice like Rachel Reeves. My imminent tears threatened to nourish the grass. Did you observe how, in Mel Gibson’s film Apocalypto, robed priests observed the sun unshielded? Happily, on this occasion the minister adhered to current safety guidelines. The sky gradually darkened. Assorted groups occupied the hillside, parched and yellow as a Spanish beach. What transgressions demanded absolution? Supplicating to Southern Water rather than the divine? Perhaps I would find myself entombed in sand à la Blackbeard. Mercifully, Patcham operates with greater sophistication – unless waste collection has been neglected.
No surprise, then, that upon the sun’s return I prepared to leap from the blanket, my crisp white shirt hanging loose, and burst into melody: the lyrics from the song Aquarius, with their reference to the moon in the Seventh House and Jupiter aligning with Mars, describing the dawning of the age of Aquarius. In reality, we merely gathered our belongings and wandered home as though nothing noteworthy had transpired.
Why express astonishment? Though Patcham cannot anticipate another celestial event until 2090, perspective proves valuable. Across the past century, more than two hundred solar eclipses have occurred globally – roughly as regular as Labour councillor resignations. Another takes place in Spain next summer, should you tolerate the climate. Whatever your plans, preserve those viewing glasses – they’ll shield your vision when Andy next phones from some extraordinary location.
Alistair McNair serves as Leader of the Conservative group on Brighton and Hove City Council.