We got up early to watch the eclipse; 10:30-ish.
For breakfast we ate leftover-Pizza from the day before. I like old pizza; there's a relaxed quality about it. Just for the fun of it we were wearing our eclipse-protection-glasses. It must have looked weird.
Immediately after breakfast we settled on the front-porch; the last eclipse of the millennium is not something you'd like to miss. We were way too far north to be expecting a total eclipse, but the radio promised seventy-two percent coverage of the sun, and the sky was cloud-free.
The light got steadily dimmer and trough the glasses we could clearly see the moon moving slowly in front of the sun. Just looking at the world around us, though, it looked merely like a light cloud passing the sun. The radio-DJs made a bunch of bad jokes on the sun's expense and kept themselves amused by playing songs like Total Eclipse of the Heart and other sunny songs. In rather poor taste if you ask me, but then bad jokes have always been the defence of a small mind.
It did look rather spectacular, even though I desperately wished I were in Cornwall, Budapest or Bucharest were they got the real thing; total eclipse of the sun. Next time--whenever that might be--no matter the cost; I'm going to be in the centre of the eclipse.
While the moon was still blotting out a fair part of the sun we went back up to the little dam, for no other reason than to actually be able to say that we had taken a swim during an eclipse. This swimming-thing might have been getting out of hand; this summer I've been swimming at midnight, swimming in the nude, swimming in moon-light, swimming in the early morning sun, swimming in sea-water and now; swimming under an eclipse. The only thing left now is swimming fully clad in the rain--I'll have to talk to Sunni about that.
This was also the day we discovered that Børre Viggo was gone. The fish we had been drooling over almost form day-one had somehow managed to get out of the estuary. All the plans we had for that fish. We had so been looking forward to hitting him over the head with something hard and feed him to the cats, but I guess he had other arrangements. Quite annoying. We made another pizza in stead. The pizza-bun we'd put in the freezer the previous night had somehow slipped into a strange angle and broken itself over in the middle; it looked rather funny. It straightened itself out as it thawed, though. That was the forth pizza we'd made in less than three weeks. And there was quite a bit left for breakfast--and probably lunch--the next day.
What's all this got to do with Elvis, you ask, well--I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.
Introduction