Total Eclipse Of My Arse.

It seems rather cruel that Bonnie Tyler was robbed of the chance to see an eclipse of the sun. She came so close, but then a rather nasty sounding illness, followed by a coma, followed by not a lot of anything else that’s good for you finally put her to sleep. She was famously Welsh and also had a famously husky, ball breaker of a singing voice and found fame making someone else a fortune singing a series of really rather catchy songs. My personal favourite was always ‘Holding Out For A Hero’, but her most popular turned out to be ‘Total Eclipse Of The Heart’, which delivered drama and power alongside some close to nonsensical lyrics; a classic that has gone on to be repeatedly, brutally butchered at every holiday karaoke night since 1983, but still manages to retain a curious air of dignity and grace thanks to Bonnie’s delivery. She died a few weeks ago in Portugal, which is an added shame because Portugal managed to see some of the best solar eclipse views in western Europe, though even then they weren’t guaranteed to be full. ‘Almost Total Eclipse Of The Heart’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

I hope that’s given you a small nugget of insight into the life and career of Bonnie Tyler, and even if it hasn’t that it might have instead stirred up a spot of intrigue with regards to all thing solar eclipsy. It is highly likely that even if you aren’t remotely interested in the thought of a solar eclipse you’ll still be more interested than I am. And that’s because probably the most interesting thing about a solar eclipse is that it isn’t really that interesting at all. They’ve been going on for millions of years and they won’t suddenly stop when we’ve all buggered off. I’d guess that most people who get really hard at the thought of an incoming solar eclipse are the same people who cause traffic jams on the A303 near Stone Henge, who keep themselves awake to the sound of a dreamcatcher rattling on their window and who genuinely believe that rubbing two ‘healing’ stones together at dusk every day gives them a better chance than most of surviving stage four brain cancer. Anyone else who finds it interesting beyond the level of ‘mildly diverting if you happen to be outside at the time’ has clearly not spent as much time outside as is strictly healthy.

I suspect that what marks yesterday’s solar eclipse out from all the others is not how spectacular it was touted to be but just how the media turned it into something akin to the second coming of Christ or the prospect of Emma Raducanu winning two tennis matches in a row. The first I heard about the eclipse was when I saw something about people paying a fortune just to get their hands on a pair of special eclipse glasses. These glasses are notably special because they are both made of crap and look crap at exactly the same time. And after years of people looking at the sun to see where it is or if indeed it is still there, apparently for an eclipse we now urgently need these glasses or our eyeballs will melt and we’ll have to spend the next 18 months learning braille. Let me clear this up for you right now: if we assume that not everyone who watched the eclipse will have been able or bothered to secure a pair of special glasses (we’ll be talking millions here) and if looking at the sun during an eclipse poses a danger to our eyesight then why aren’t there reports today of vast swathes of people across western Europe falling into canals, bumping into lampposts or mistaking their mother for an Irish Wolfhound?

The next thing I heard was that the eclipse was a once-in-a-generation event and should not be missed at all costs, otherwise the planet would implode and inflation would go through the roof. Fortunately, I can afford not to give a fuck about this because I’m of a generation to have been alive when the last eclipse was also a once-in-a-generation event. I am grateful indeed for this because the last time it happened was notably different, chiefly because it didn’t seem to be quite so earth shatteringly essential and because health and safety was ever so slightly looser than it is today. I remember it well: I was alone at my parents house and I think it was mid-morning (if you think I’m going to bother looking it up you can think again). I didn’t have a special pair of glasses but I did look up at it for long enough to get my fill and not need to immediately complete an application form for a guide dog. It was all very simple really – the sky went a bit darker and the birds stopped singing (because they clearly hadn’t been watching the news and so had no idea what was happening) and then, as if by magic, the skies got brighter again and, wouldn’t you believe it, the birds went back to their babbling. And some people think there isn’t a God! For a few it was certainly the highlight of their generation, for me it wasn’t even the highlight of that morning.

So, the place to be yesterday wasn’t somewhere in Wiltshire or the roof of a bothy in the Cairngorms but carefully selected parts of Spain, Russia, Greenland, Iceland (the view from the frozen vegetable aisle in particular was stunning), and of course Portugal. In Britain we only got a partial eclipse of anything up to and including 90%, but that was clearly enough to make Sophie Raworth wet her pants. Personally, because I’m just too middle aged and cynical, I was busy tucking into fish and chips in a country hotel restaurant on the road to Cheltenham. You could tell when the eclipse was in full flow because someone started fiddling with the dimmer switch and for a few minutes it felt a bit like half past eight instead of seven o’clock. A few dinners rushed outside to gasp in awe, but none of the came back looking like they had seen anything much more exciting than someone they thought might have been Joe Swash but probably wasn’t. It did occur to me that maybe it would be the last solar eclipse I’d ever see, but then I reminded myself that I’ve only ever seen a partial eclipse anyway, and that this one was a partial eclipse too and so there’s really no need to experience a massive, anxious rush of FOMO. The next actual full eclipse in Britain will be in 2090, by which time the only way I might still be alive will be as a part of some sort of sick experiment. And if so, at least I’ve still got a Bonnie Tyler compilation somewhere to see me through. Phew, for a minute there I thought I was in trouble.

G B Burton. 13.08.2026