Wishing on a star…

Well, the stars didn’t shoot for me last night despite sitting outside until the early hours. It was the scudding cloud that foiled my stellar experience I think and not the wine. At one point, during a fleeting break in the grey flatness, I may just have seen the tiniest, tiniest, shooter but I can’t be certain.

Of course, I missed my best chance to see the Perseids meteor shower this time around. The night before was meant to be the zenith for material falling from the tail of Comet Swift-Tuttle that last passed near the Earth in 1992. My intentions were good. I set my alarm for three in the morning but when the time came I slept on. I don’t even remember turning the alarm off in my sleep which I suppose I must have.

I do remember Swift-Tuttle in the sky all those years ago though. I was down in Devon and stood outside watching the tail of the glowing dot for a long, long time. I was wishing on that almost star that I’d win the lottery. It was the first ever lottery week and I fully expected, like so many others I guess, to win.

I didn’t and it wasn’t.

I didn’t win the lottery any more than the cult that believed Swift-Tuttle to be a rescuing spaceship was whisked away to a new planet to make a fresh start with the benefit of Earthly hindsight. How strange that they believed that; almost as strange as me believing that I would win that first lottery. What’s even stranger though is that although I have the memory of the comet/lottery connection they were actually two unconnected events almost two years apart. Perhaps I wished upon some other lucky star that evening or perhaps I wished upon the comet on some other lottery night. Either way, it’s hard to believe that was over twenty years ago.

Comet Swift-Tuttle won't be visiting our neck of the woods again until the year 2125. Only twelve years to wait. Perhaps I’ll win the lottery the next time it passes showering us with shooting stars.

I can wish.