The Moon is close.
Today it is very close.
Forget about Trump; forget about Brexit; forget about trade deals; forget about the pound against the dollar; forget about Putin; forget about shit that has no direct impact on your everyday life.
Instead, please take a minute to look at the Moon this evening. Go on I dare you. Do it. Instead of scrolling down endless news articles on Trump's latest policy on wallmaking, or getting incredibly annoyed at your electronic friend's sudden political views, tilt your neck backwards to allow your eyes to focus on a celestial object which will be the closest to us in our lifetime. Ask yourself some questions; have an educated guess at how you think the Moon got there. Look at the surrounding stars and question whether you believe other civilisations exist or not. Astronomers say the Moon will be just 221,525 miles away from the Earth on November 14, meaning it will appear up to 30% brighter and 14% bigger than usual.
Come Monday night, weather permitting I will find it incredibly easy to be able to take a step back from the utter media garbage being force fed in to my gullet by pointing my reasonably priced telescope toward an object which has fascinated me since John Major was in power.
It will appear bigger on Monday than it has ever in my lifetime (the Moon, not John Major). That round, floating piece of rock we all occasionally glance at will appear so big, that Donald Trump must be thinking about building a celestial wall to block out the increased reflected sunlight.
The Supermoon.
That object up there which controls our tides and seasons, not our economy and election results, will be a proverbial stone's throw away from us.
Instead of clicking on the latest post-apocalyptic Brexit and Trump article or opinion, I will be taking a few quiet moments to look at the ancient craters littered on the Moon.
"I wonder when that crater appeared"
"Was the Moon the result of a violent collision with the Earth billions of years ago"?
"Wow".
Will be possible words I may say to my geeky self.
If the British clouds break and allow me the incredibly rare opportunity to glimpse the Moon at its closest for a generation, I will go to sleep that night a happy man.
If the clouds remain, I will still not give a sh*t about the pound's relationship with the dollar.
Look up.