Here I am inside my eclipse box, a three feet long cardboard box with foil, paper, and a tiny pinprick to let in the image of the sun. At first I thought that I'd got it wrong, but then I realised that the dark spot at the edge of the projected light was actually the moon moving slowly across the face of the sun.
For once, when celestial events occur, it wasn't thick cloud. There was a little cloud when it started, but not enough to stop me seeing the eclipse happening. I'd also made a candle smoked glass panel and, as there was some blanket cloud, I intermittently used this to view the almost total eclipse.
Ninety percent - I doubt that I will ever get closer to a total.
I watched as the sun became a fine crescent moon, the temperature dropping quickly as I did so and a strange light almost - although not quite - that cold greeny-grey light you sometimes get before dawn. An eerie light.
Perhaps it was my imagination, but what few sounds there were seemed amplified, each bird tweet echoing, each word a shout and to be honest, despite the occasion, it brought me down a little. Of course I knew that the world wasn't going to end and that the sun wasn't being eaten, but it made me feel small. A small monkey whirling around on a tiny rock in a universe I wasn't in control of.
And then it was all over. The temperature rose, the light became full daylight once again, and the birds no longer echoed in the air.
I wonder if I'll ever see anything like it again?