The plan was, I would get up at 2:45 (British time) and judge the sky: would it be clear enough for us to go out and see Moment Two? Moment Two was the minutes before total eclipse. If so, wake Tilly.
Well, I woke at 2:15, the sort of time I rather often do. Confiscated her alarm clock so it wouldn’t bother her. Saw immediately from the windows that the crystalline Full Moon, a quarter bitten away, hung in a pure sky over the ancient street and the single line of buildings between us and the sea. I went across and through the gateway into the sloping gardens that overlook the harbour. The Moon had westered too far to be still pouring its reflection on the water; it was high over the lights strung along the famous jetty called the Cobb. I’m not a photographer; all I have is an iPad, and I found it couldn’t separate the Moon’s sharp shape from its glare.
(For some reason the photo won’t arrive, which is no great loss. Blackness, lights along the harbour below, smudged Moon above.)
As Moment Two approached, I hurried back to rouse Tilly, and here she is gazing from our doorway. She saw (sometimes with our monocular) the last slice of uneclipsed white, then the gray-brown undercurve of the eclipsed Moon’s southern edge; above it, the Moon’s interior, visible though increasingly darker, reddish. No photo we could take could show anything of that, so I’ve faked it. I’ve drawn onto this picture the faraway thing we saw.