On this day in 1961 there was a partial eclipse of the sun in the morning. It was Ash Wednesday and we were herded off to church for that service in which the priest smeared greasy muck on your forehead with his thumb. The sky was cloudy and we didn't see the eclipse. From inside the church we could see the sun coming out, but by the time the service had finished and we were released the eclipse was over. I've harboured bitterness about that for exactly 60 years. I'm thinking that it may have sown the early seeds of my atheism...