the lay-by bedded down, and the sky grew eerily darker, like a winter sun, until it eventually disappeared for the 2 minutes of totality.  It was quite dark, with only a half-light in the distance, to the east and the west.  The bells in the old church next to Bobs house chimed erratically.

Then the first glimpse of the sun formed the diamond ring, and it was all over.  The ducks woke up, and we got on with the barbecue, ignoring the brightening sun, concentrating on a few beers before the dash back to England.  It was only 23 hours, but well worth the fascinating experience of seeing a total eclipse.

Albert Sillwood.

PS, Bob's house in Normandy is 2 hours from Calais, and is available for rent.  Contact Bob on 01438 814368.

The Eclipse seen through a pair of binoculars, on top of a camera  (or have they arrived)

Wednesday 11th August 1999 at 12.20 French time, saw 14 people watching the moon eclipse the sun in Bob Bone's garden in deepest France.  Little did Bob know when he bought his house 10 years ago, that it would lay on the centre line of the 1999 eclipse.  This information came to Bob a year ago.

On hearing this remarkable fact in early 1999, Mick Bail booked a £30 shuttle to France for the evening of Tuesday 10th August, returning Wednesday 11th.

In fact it took only 23 hours for Mick & Chris Bail to pick up Joe Towe and Albert in Baldock at 7pm, drive to Folkestone, have a few beers, board the shuttle, arrive at Bob's 2.30am French time, sleep, have breakfast, watch the eclipse under a sunny sky (with occasional clouds), barbecue, have a few more beers, pack, leave at 2pm French time, and return via the shuttle to Baldock at 5.30pm Wednesday.

The journey was quick, with Mick driving his Subaru out, and Chris driving it back, only a little slower.

Bob had invited out six of the Glaswegian desperados who occupied both bedrooms, leaving Bob to sleep on the Lounge settee.  The Bail party slept on the floor, whilst Pete Christie, Stephanie and Rachael slept in their tent in Bob's Garden.

Wednesday day dawned cloudy, but gradually cleared as the eclipse started.  We heard from the radio that it was overcast in Cornwall (oh dear).  A Dutchman was parked in the lay-by outside Bob's, setting up a large telescope, and video camera.  His colleagues from his astronomical club had gone to Munich, where there was heavy rain.  He was pleased to be in France.

As the eclipse approached the ducks in the pond next to

As the Karrimor motto says, "Phone in sick".  So I did, and here I am in Bills Jaguar heading for one of my favourite places: Wales. The journey is normal; lots of road, a couple of petrol stations and a hut at the end. This time, however, there was no room at the Inn, so I was camping, a preferable option for once as the 'beds' had been designed by someone who hadn't had sleep in mind.

Later that evening the advance party headed out for the local pub, conveniently in walking distance so no one had to go without. The others later joined us and the drinking started in earnest. Knocking the drinks back like there was no tomorrow, at least no climbing tomorrow, the evening rolled into oblivion. Just before we got there the less lager orientated members retired gracefully to their wooden pallets, leaving us to refuel and continue our journey. A while later we were offered the challenge of singing a song, which was readily accepted and we sang every rude song we could think of and some we couldn't remember the words too. (Something along the lines of "never mind the b*ll*cks" - Phil). By this time the doors had been locked and there was no escape.

We were then ordered to form a 'Lancaster Bomber' complete with a pilot, four engines and a rear gunner. As the engines roared into action, propellers flailed in drunken enthusiasm, but one by one they were shot by the enemy till only engine no 1 (Denise) was left. Suddenly she caught fire and was duly extinguished  with a soda bottle, much to ev