I am fairly sure that I became myopic shortly after the eclipse of 1999. At that time I was doing a summer job as a home help/carer for various old folk around Sheffield. It was a grim job whose many unpleasant moments are seared in the memory, but interesting all the same. That day I was helping a one-eyed, alcoholic old women called Virginia (a name whose obscene variations she exulted in). Tasks included going to the supermarket to buy her four cans of Special Brew, a packet of Superkings, a loaf of cheap white bread and a slab of lard, making her cups of tea and talking to her.
Virginia was a disgusting and unfortuanate person. She had a nasty habit of coughing up phlegm into whatever bowl or cup was handy. She frequently swore. She was paranoid about the council (upon whose support she relied). She used kitchen roll for toilet paper. She was bitter about every thing and every one. She had panic attacks when going to the shops. She loved Ainsley Harriot
The morning of the eclipse Ready Steady Cook was on and Ainsley was in fine form, at least I think he was given the poor reception on her black and white TV. He made way for Jamie Theakston and the damp squib of Eclipse Live. Ginny wasn’t interested in the eclipse, she preferred discussing all the places where she’d be hiding if “they” (I don’t know who) ever tried to get her. So when it came to the actual eclipse, I just ended up staring up at the cloudy sky through her lace curtains, thinking: “has it happened? was that it?” Foolishly, I hadn’t worn sunglasses, and felt a niggling eye strain later in the day.
I was thinking of this moment whilst watching Sunshine, a claustrophobic sci-fi thriller, which features an onboard psychologist who is obsessed with staring into the sun. Sunshine depicts the final stages of a 16 month journey from Earth to deliver a load of nukes into the centre of the sun in order to reignite it and save humanity. An international crew psychologically unravel as they go through the torments that accompany such a strange journey. All this is superbly done and is brilliant if you enjoy feeling uncomfortable long into the night. Only the ending lets it down: nothing really coalesces or makes much artistic sense. Apart from that, it’s pretty good. Not as interesting as Virginia, but still . . .
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