August 9, 2007
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Ever since I first discovered that shooting stars are meteors, and that a fantastic meteor shower happens every year on the night of August 11/12 (easy to remember – Liz’s birthday), I’ve wanted to watch them. And it’s never happened. I’ve either not had access to outside, or it’s been cloudy, or a full moon, or I’ve had to work the next day (the reason I’ve never seen the Oscars all the way through – well, work and because the Oscars are really fucking boring and I fall asleep) or I’ve been living under a streetlamp.
This year, it’s a weekend. I have a garden. I know it’s London but there’s no streetlights immediately around. There’s no moon. I’m hoping it’ll be clear. I want to sit outside and watch the Earth pass through the Perseid meteors.
The Plough seemed to revolve around my parents’ old house . I had a sixth form job that involved coming home around one in the morning, and on clear nights I could stand in the drive and always see it directly overhead but in a different position as the year moved on. The Plough roots me. I can see it from my garden but I can’t tell if it’s spinning round my house yet. Maybe it does that to everyone, but I haven’t done long-term studies from any position other than the driveway in Drighlington. Anyway, seeing shooting stars is on my all-time top-five astronomy viewing list (yes, I am watching High Fidelity, how did you know?) and I’ll hopefully spend Saturday night crossing it off.