Matters eclipse

Eclipse day, only we have to look at it through a colander because no glasses, no dice?

I began my leader writing career for The Times writing about an eclipse back in what I now see was 11th August 1999, but feels like 1924. The paper’s Chief Leader Writer, Rosemary Righter, hosted a champagne breakfast on her Quick Street rooftop for the great event, which struck at a fateful 11.11am. (A week later, this same rooftop was declared a death trap, but we survived.)

Then, we all trooped into Wapping to have leader conference an hour later than usual at 1pm. In those days, editorials were broadsheet length, not the bijou phenomena they are now, even the third one some 64 lines. This translates as a paltry five or six pars, yet the internet was useless back then, meaning one had to know stuff, refer to books, look at cuts, have ideas; the paper’s reputation heavy on one’s shoulders.

Needless to say, I’d be considerably better – and swifter - at it now. Still, Sir Peter Stothard’s “Brain’s Trust” proved an excellent training ground, akin to those Renaissance exercises in scale: sonnet rather than epic. While Ro and Peter became beloved pals. I sport Ro’s rings (she died two summers ago – I was with her) and see Peter whenever he can be persuaded.

I don’t remember our gazing at the thing through colanders though. Indeed, my only memory is of its being vaguely spooky: the sky turning grey, the natural world descending into silence, and birds - if not quite flying backwards - then patently disconcerted.

Anyway, anyone got any better ideas than colanders? I refuse to pay homage to the sky god while brandishing a kitchen implement. On the other hand, I am on migraine day two - clearly a sign that I am an omen-channelling mystic - and may be lying in a darkened room.