I am loving watching Stargazing Live. When I grow up I am going to be a Space Scientist. I just need to get my head around maths first. I am scared of numbers. Not little ones, I can cope with my change at the shops, and simple sums. In fact mostly I am OK with maths containing numbers. It is maths that contains letters that terrifies me. Which is odd, because letters are usually my friends. I like letters when they make words. Words are fun. Equations are not fun, they are baffling representations of how daft I actually am.
Can you be a Space Scientist without a grasp of the scary Maths? I bet you can. For example, I once found the Higgs Boson particle down the back of the sofa. It was hanging out with two odd socks, a leaky pen and a large variety of biscuit crumbs.
And dark matter? Easy. It’s marmite. I bet.
The key to intergalactic travel? Clearly you need dilithium crystals for that, I learnt that from the font of all space knowledge – Star Trek, and I am 99% certain that that is exactly the sort of crystal they put in the fake diamond rings that they offer for sale on QVC. It’s just that real scientists are too busy looking at weird letter maths to watch QVC so they haven’t noticed yet.
Astronomy and all that quantum physics lark that sits alongside it, is a combination of both philosophy and religion. Instead of how many angels on the hypothetical pinhead, it is quarks we are counting now. And listening to Brian Cox describing the end of time with such serenity is the atheist version of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Christmas message. The thought of all that bleak nothingness soothes our minds. Or terrifies us. I haven’t quite decided yet.
And I am loving all that talk of Goldilocks planets. For us 1970s kids, Close Encounters has left an indelible mark – a fascination with the idea of aliens, beings from other planets. We don’t want to be alone. The responsibility is too great. Like children turning to their parents, we long for a wise, kind race to come along and give us the answers, and make it all better. Don’t talk to me about microbes on one of Saturn’s moons, I want friendly giants in silver cloaks, different enough to be alien, but similar enough not to scare us. I don’t want Independence Day, no, I want the peaceful bunch represented in Stephen Spielberg’s epic.
Right, can’t stay here all day, am off to the Jodrell bank website, to see if they have any jobs going for idiots, or failing that, the open university to sign up for ‘Space 101’. Or I might just play the Close Encounters jingle on a toddler keyboard.
Love Miss Cisco XXX