SIR PATRICK

It’s not been the greatest of years for those of us with an interest in all matters space-related. Earlier on in the year we lost both Sir Bernard Lovell of “Jodrell Bank” fame and the first man on the moon, Neil Armstrong. Then, earlier on this month, we also lost the noted “amateur astronomer” and xylophone-playing eccentric Sir Patrick Moore, a man who had probably done more to encourage and inspire generations of astronomers, both amateur and professional alike, than anyone else in the field.

I didn’t feel the need to write about it at the time. After all, despite the obvious surprise and sense of loss of a man who was so familiar because he appeared on our televisions pretty much every month since 1957, it has to be said that during his more recent appearances he had not been looking well and, despite the very best efforts of “The Sky at Night” team to work around him at his house, “Farthings” (“far things” you see…?), every month, little of what he was saying was very understandable any more.

But Sir Patrick was great. There were more than a few eyebrows raised at the amount of love and affection being thrown in the direction of the old curmudgeon after his demise, mostly from people appalled by his views on politics and women, and whilst his personal opinions probably didn’t play all that well to our modern. More “politically correct” ears, as far as I can tell, he never used his position to try and influence his “Sky at Night” audience with his views.

With Sir Patrick it was all about the astronomy, and the astronomy was all that mattered.

When you find out about the huge tragedy in his personal life, and the loss of his much-loved fiancée during the war, it is a little easier to understand his suspicions of the European union, and why he buried himself in his work.

And what a legacy it was.

Not only did he help to map the moon and therefore help to make the lunar landings in the 1960s and 1970s actually possible, but he is widely believed to be the only man to have met three key pioneering figures in the world of flight and space exploration – the first man to fly, the first man in space, and the first man on the moon, Orville Wright, Yuri Gagarin and Neil Armstrong.

In 1945, this “gifted amateur” was elected a fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society and in 1977 he was awarded the society’s Jackson-Gwilt Medal. In 1968, he was made an OBE which was promoted to a CBE in 1988. In 2001, he was knighted, and also appointed an Honorary Fellow of the Royal Society, the only amateur astronomer ever to achieve this distinction. In June 2002, he was appointed as the honorary vice president of the Society for the History of Astronomy, and was presented with a BAFTA award for services to television. The University of Leicester’s Department of Physics and Astronomy awarded him an honorary Doctor of Science degree in 1996, and a Distinguished Honorary Fellowship in 2008, which is the highest award UoL can give.

He wrote dozens of books (some estimate more than a thousand) designed to ignite the interest of other gifted (and not-so-gifted) amateurs, a fair few more in the world of fiction, which I remember enjoying as a young boy recovering from having my tonsils removed, and the “Yearbook of Astronomy” each year for nearly fifty years. Unhappily I had only picked up a copy of the latest “The Sky at Night” book whilst mooching around in a garden centre last week (and decided not to buy it, it having been during the infamous Christmas Gift no-buy “zone” at the time. I ordered myself a copy later.) and got home in time to hear the statement announcing of his death on the 9th of December 2012.

“After a short spell in hospital last week, it was determined that no further treatment would benefit him, and it was his wish to spend his last days in his own home, Farthings, where he today passed on, in the company of close friends and carers and his cat Ptolemy. Over the past few years, Patrick, an inspiration to generations of astronomers, fought his way back from many serious spells of illness and continued to work and write at a great rate, but this time his body was too weak to overcome the infection which set in a few weeks ago. He was able to perform on his world record-holding TV Programme The Sky at Night right up until the most recent episode. His executors and close friends plan to fulfil his wishes for a quiet ceremony of interment, but a farewell event is planned for what would have been his 90th birthday in March 2013.”

Anyway, in these days when several of our broadcasting giants have been found to have feet of clay, it was good to know that there was still one television icon who we could still regard with a certain amount of respect, even if the Twitterati did feel the need to drag up a few of his less-than-wise opinions as sticks to beat him with.

As the other big-haired celebrity astronomer (and part-time guitarist) Brian May said:

“Patrick was the last of a lost generation, a true gentleman, the most generous in nature that I ever knew, and an inspiration to thousands in his personal life, and to millions through his 50 years of unique broadcasting. It's no exaggeration to say that Patrick, in his tireless and ebullient communication of the magic of astronomy, inspired every British astronomer, amateur and professional, for half a century. There will never be another Patrick Moore. But we were lucky enough to get one.”

I couldn’t have put it better myself… (and didn’t…)

As to the future of “The Sky at Night” well, who can tell? It’s been fairly obvious that his fellow presenters have been bearing the bulk of the load for the past few years, but as to whether this quiet “broadcasting institution” can survive in the modern television era (despite quietly and efficiently having gone about its business for the past 55 years) remains to be seen, but I do hope that it manages to continue despite the loss of its greatest and most enthusiastic supporter, originator and presenter.

Somehow that seems as if it would be his most suitable memorial.