I have a vague interest in astronomy. I’ve seen lots of meteor showers, the Hale-Bopp comet in 1995, and a very good lunar eclipse a few years ago. But everybody loves a solar eclipse.

On 12 August 2026 a solar eclipse passed through Europe, with the Path of Totality travelling through Iceland and northern Spain. Parts of Devon and Cornwall enjoyed 95% totality, London about 90%. The media, in particular the BBC, went mad in anticipation. The usual cautionary tales about not looking at the sun directly were repeated again and again. But the requisite safety specs could not be had for love or money – because many people had left it too late, even for Amazon to deliver in time. Fortunately I was not one of them.

We had thought about driving to Aragon to watch it (as did Sir Brian May), and had booked a hotel room well over a year ago. But in the end we decided that Spain would be far too hot. Unlike here of course! So we stayed in Herne Hill, which seemed as good a place as any if we were not to go overseas. We did a recce of Ruskin Park, about half a mile away, the evening before.

Shortly after 6pm, when it was till pretty hot, people began to gather in the park,

At least cloud cover would not spoil the show

We looked towards the west. There were no trees or high buildings in the way. Through our specs we could see the Moon starting to nibble away at the Sun. Without them you would have had no idea that something extraordinarily rare was happening. The full extent of the eclipse came a little after 7pm, and it was a sight worth waiting for. But as for the sky going dark, it getting chilly or birds starting to roost… you would have to have had a strong imagination.

I opened a Guinness as a libation to Apollo

It wasn’t a life-changing experience. I am sure many adults, and almost all young children, would have wondered what all the fuss was about. Anne and I watched it, on and off, for another 45 minutes then went to The Fox on The Hill for a pint.

I have seen something much better

***

On 11 August 1999 a solar eclipse swept across England, France, Germany, Eastern Europe, Turkey and the Middle East. Because of the large population in its path, it was the most-viewed eclipse of all time. I’d like to share my memories of that day, 27 years ago.

Unless you had wherewithal to be an eclipse chaser it was going to be the chance of a lifetime. That is to say, if the weather allowed. Unfortunately the Path of Totality went through Cornwall and Devon, then across the Channel Islands to Normandy. Anyone who has driven to Cornwall from London (seven hours) in the height of summer knows that it is an ordeal. To do so in such exceptional circumstances would be insane. It was way too far for a day trip. But where could afford to stay, even if we didn’t have to go to work the next day?

But what about northern France? Surely it couldn’t take any longer to get there, the roads would not be too busy, and if the clouds ruined the spectacle we could at least enjoy a nice lunch and stock up on wine and cheese.

Then I read an article by Richard Binns (author of French Leave, d. 2006) in The Sunday Times, 4 July 1999. It was a long and detailed account of the options for viewing the eclipse in Northern France, and where to get a decent meal afterwards, given that the viewing would be over by 1pm. I still have the article.

Why do I keep all this stuff?

One of Binns’s suggestions was a day-trip to Neufchâtel-en-Bray. A few minutes south-east of Neufchâtel there was, according to the Michelin 1:200,000 map, a viewpoint, and therefore a hill. It was bang on the Line of Totality. I decided to aim for that.

We were in the early days of the internet. And travelling to France by the Channel Tunnel was still relatively new. I assumed that few people would take the same route as us. I had no difficulty in booking a day-trip on Le Shuttle, though we would have to leave home at 4am to be sure of arriving at our destination on time.

Anne and I drove with two South London friends to Folkestone, through the Chunnel, then down the A16 and A26 in our Citroën AX. It was a Wednesday morning at the height of the French holiday season, and traffic was light. There was some broken cloud but the sky was fairly clear. We stopped in Neufchâtel for coffee and croissants and quickly found the viewpoint. A couple of dozen cars were parked in a well-signposted field. Clearly other people had had the same idea, though I do not recall seeing any other UK number-plates. There were tents and telescopes and some serious-looking astronomers.

I had brought my (pre-digital) Nikon FG-20, which I set up on a tripod. Towards midday it started to get gloomy but there was no obvious sign of what was in store. The sky was clear of clouds. Suddenly, cattle started to move off and bats flitted about. Through our protective specs we could see the Moon biting a chunk out of the Sun. The astronomers were making observations, calling out mysterious numbers.

Totality arrived shortly after 12:20 local time. We had a perfect view. Anne shouted “glasses off” and we looked at a black sun with a pale yellow halo and, here and there, red flares. People sighed. Otherwise there was silence. Imagine the shock if you had not known it was coming. It was the most amazing, mind-boggling thing I have ever seen. I was deeply affected, close to tears. I wasn’t expecting to feel emotional at all. Then it was “glasses on”, as the Moon started to move off.

We celebrated with a black velvet or two

We drove back to the Chunnel via Dieppe, stopping for a more than decent lunch, and bought provisions in a supermarket. I can’t remember where the time went, but it was nearly 3am when we got home. A 23-hour day-trip indeed.

Listening to the radio on the way home we learned that conditions in Cornwall had been rather disappointing. Crap, in fact, We had enjoyed a much better view than Patrick Moore, or anyone watching the BBC “coverage”. How very British! A big build-up followed by the inevitable let-down.

It was not coming home

I had to wait over a week to see if any of my Kodachromes had come out well, or even at all. In the event, through luck and guesswork about the exposure time I had taken one very good one. A lasting memory of a very special day.

It is something everyone should try to experience once in their lifetime. The next opportunity is on 2 August. next year, But it’s not going to be easy as that eclipse travels through southern Andalusia and North Africa then down the Red Sea to Egypt. It will be roasting hot and the hotels (apart from in Libya, perhaps) are probably already booked out. But can you imagine the thrill of watching it from the Temple of Karnac? No doubt Sir Brian May will be there.