With twenty minutes to spare we drove onto a field covered with the stubble of freshly cut wheat. For months Rohan and I had planned to watch the 2026 solar eclipse – albeit partial – and thought that from the top of this Tréguennec field we would have the ‘perfect’ view. Indeed, when we got out of our car and sat on our folding chairs, to the west was the sun in a cloudless sky beneath which was an unbroken sea panorama that stretched across the horizon for over 180 degrees.

Others had made similar plans and soon our field was dotted with perhaps a hundred people sitting in clusters; we human beings feel it best to view an eclipse with those close! 

But there was a paradox. Yes, there were three of us (we had been joined by a neighbour), but as I settled down to watch the eclipse through my protective glasses (see illustration), I felt very much alone. The prospect of looking directly at the sun had been frightening, but with my glasses, seeing it as a tiny, unthreatening orange dot felt like a wonderful privilege and I just sat and stared. At the allotted time, the moon took its first step across the front of the sun visible as the tiniest of elliptical ‘bites’ out of the sun’s bottom right-hand edge. As I watched and the bite grew, all manner of thoughts ran through my head. That the eclipse should stimulate my imagination was a complete surprise, and soon I found myself sharing some of those thoughts with a neighbour.

The moon’s progress was slow, and after a while I stopped watching to go over to the family of three on our right – two parents and a child. I had talked a lot about the eclipse with adults and now wanted to know what a young person felt. After introducing myself and explaining to the parents what I had in mind, with their permission I asked their boy my questions, but first he told me that he was nearly twelve and was called Eliott. Then followed my first question:  “What do you think about the eclipse?” to which he politely replied: “Not Bad”. Next, probing further: “On seeing the eclipse, what thoughts crossed your mind?” His response was similarly brief: “Nothing special ”. Finally, I asked whether he would prefer to watch a solar eclipse or a game of football? This time the response came with a smile: “Football”. Enquiry over, I thanked Eliott (and his parents) and returned to my chair.

A little later Eliott’s father came over to us and said that Eliott now wished to ask me some questions – Eliott felt it was my turn to be interrogated ! I went back and with a slightly amused smile he said ‘Well, what exactly have you thought as you have been watching the eclipse?” and, although my mind was buzzing with a myriad reflections, I decided to describe just three. First I said that using my special viewing glasses I had been fascinated to see the sun in detail for the first time and that I was surprised how tiny and ‘friendly’ it was. Importantly, by seeing it so small and ‘docile’ I felt it was very much part of my world rather than the ferocious threat of earlier.

Next I told him how in my mind I kept seeing the eclipse as part of history. Although our eclipse was only partial, were it full, in any one place a total eclipse occurs every 400 years or so and has done so since time immemorial. Thinking back over the bewilderment our ancestors – from the earliest hominins – would have felt was happening was a recurring thought. Not least in all this was my realisation that we were now taking part in the 2026 edition of a story that will go on ad infinitum. 

Finally I told Eliott how seeing the eclipse gave me a wonderfully empowering feeling of ‘togetherness’. We were amongst tens of millions of people in France alone, who at the same moment in time were together doing the very same thing – looking at the eclipse – and in this we were magically linked with one another in peace. Eliott listened intently with a thoughtful expression and then, in English said “Thank you”. 

Next, I again returned to my chair to watch as the moon continued its passage and realised that there was a thought I had chosen not to tell Eliott. As I was watching I kept thinking of close friends or relatives who were ill or had recently died. The extent to which the eclipse influenced my thinking came as a great surprise.

The illustration shows a photo of a pair of the disposable 2€ dark-lens spectacle that I used to look at the eclipse.

For helping me write this blog, I would like to thank Marie, Jennie, Sarah, Benjamin, Nadège, Eliott, Rohan and Vivien.