Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Thursday, 13 November 2014
A wing and a prayer
I am approaching the end of the year with the almost optimistic impression that everything is under control. I am probably going to regret thinking like this.
I can imagine how the team are feeling now that - after a ten year journey - the little craft bounced in slow motion a couple of times before settling down on the comet, and how they let out their breaths when the Earth turned again this morning to allow the first pictures of its little feet - settled on the frozen lump 300,000,000 miles away and moving at about 40,000 miles per hour - to come through, meaning that all but the harpoon anchor is working, and working well.
So different to the atmosphere in the control room of Beagle, when Professor Pillinger had to go around consoling tearful scientists after he broke the news that the little thing's brakes had failed at the end of the long journey, and it was most likely lying strewn in small pieces, somewhere on the surface of Mars.
I had a little plan at the beginning of this year, and - so far - it is going worryingly well.